


Red Winter

by aspecialkindofhuman



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, captain america: the winter soldier - Fandom
Genre: Angst, But mostly angst, Fluff, M/M, Marvel - Freeform, Stucky - Freeform, but she doesn't factor into the relationships so don't worry, goddang it, its taken over my life, lol you'll see, she's just there to stir the proverbial plot of the story, there's an oc if you like that kind of thing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-20
Updated: 2014-08-04
Packaged: 2018-01-25 19:44:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 50,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1660238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aspecialkindofhuman/pseuds/aspecialkindofhuman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Steve Rogers is taken by a rogue faction of Hydra assassins, Bucky finds he's not the only one fighting to save him. While trying to manage his own feelings for Steve and those of the Winter Soldier, he has to protect a girl who's crucial to the success of Steve's rescue mission - a girl who is eerily familiar to the soldier turned assassin. Lots of fluff and angst. Completely Steve/Bucky the girl (OC) doesn't factor into the relationships, don't worry. Post TWS. I freaking hate stucky okay bye.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Return of the Winter Soldier

**Author's Note:**

> Stucky fucking sucks. It's taken over my life. And I only saw the movie like yesterday. Okay, whatever. So thought of this while taking a shower last night, just had to write it down. Thought it would be just a quick little ficlet by then I started writing and well . . .  
> This is the first chapter there will be much more to come. So sit back and enjoy the fluffy/angst with some smut coming (oh jesus my first smut fic uwu).

The Return of the Winter Soldier

Bucky realized he was in love long before Steve did.

It began after his sixteenth birthday, when he started taking girls on dates.

            “Come with us!” He'd say to Steve, dragging him along on his date with Sue, or Sally, or whatever the hell the girl’s name was. “It’ll be fun.”

            “I’m a third wheel,” Steve would always grumble, secretly pleased that Bucky cared enough to try and keep him around.

            “Yeah, but you’re _my_ third wheel,” Bucky would grin, curling his arm around Steve’s shoulders and tucking the thin dweeb into his side.

            It took two years and almost two dozen girls before one finally stood up to him and told Bucky what he’d known all along.

            “Why do you keep going on dates?” she asked, curling a lock of shimmery blonde hair behind her ear. Her eyes were keen and electric blue when they found his, simmering with a knowledge Bucky was a little afraid of her having. “I mean its obvious who you’re really after.” Then she smiled, flashing rows of glittery white teeth behind two thick ruby lips.

            She was nice. Bucky actually remembered her. Her name was . . . Jane. Nice, friendly Jane with eyes as Blue as Steve’s and hair just as blonde. She’d sent him letters after he went to war and gave him periodic updates on Steve (she lived right down the block from him). She was the first person Bucky told about The Letter, about being drafted. He remembered running to her, The Letter clenched in his tight fist. He remembered pounding on her door and flashing it up in her face.

            Everything got a little fuzzy after that. Bucky liked to think he’d stayed strong, that he hadn’t broken down and beat a hole in her plaster wall with his bare fist. But he had. And she promised to keep an eye on Steve, to keep him safe even when Bucky couldn’t.

            But before that, before the draft and the beginning of the end, there was winter, 1939. Three months after war broke out in Europe, a snowstorm ripped through New York. At the time, Bucky was still working at the mechanic’s shop, the same little job he’d always worked.

            But Steve. Steve was God-knows where.

            They’d had a fight the day before.

            “I’m gonna volunteer,” Steve told Bucky, buffing his thin little chest out nice and proud. “We’ve got to go over there and help the Brits.”

            “Are you nuts!” Bucky had shouted. “You’re gonna get yourself killed!”

            “I’ve got to help.” Steve kept insisting, oddly calm in the face of Bucky’s sudden, blistering rage.

            “You idiot!” Bucky remembered shouting, pushing past Steve on his way out of the punk’s apartment. “You fucking moron! I ain’t lettin you do it. I ain’t lettin you throw your life away!”

            Bucky had expected some snarky comeback or a shout of defiance. He got silence instead.

            Turning with a brow raised, Bucky opened his mouth to say something else when he saw Steve bleeding on the floor.

            “Oh shit!” he cussed, falling to his knees beside Steve. “Oh shit ohshitohshit.”

            “I’m fine.” Steve sat up, gingerly feeling the bruised little cut spouting blood on his forehead. “It’s just a cut.”

            “Shit, Steve.” Bucky helped him up, and sat him down at the table rushing around to get bandages for Steve’s wound. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

            “It’s fine.” Steve tried to wave him off, defiant as ever. But when he stood his legs wobbled. He buckled and fell again before Bucky could catch him.

            Bucky left him in bed with a bandage strapped across his forehead. He forced his way outside through the falling snow, headed back to his apartment. He’d wanted to stay. He could’ve stayed; there was always room at Steve’s place. Hell, Bucky probably spent more time in the little punk’s apartment than he did at his own apartment.But he just couldn’t.

            Not with Steve staring at him like that, with all the fight still in his eyes. Bucky couldn’t control his anger with Steve looking at him, watching him with his fragile blue eyes and bags like bruised flower petals hanging under beneath them.

            “Damn idiot.” Bucky kicked a little at the mounting snow. “Why does he want to waste his life? Why does he want to go and get himself killed?” _He ain’t leaving me._ Bucky sniffed to himself, ducking his head and shoving his hands deep in his pockets. _He ain’t going somewhere I can’t follow him._

            Back to the snowstorm.

            Bucky’s first thought was of Steve. He and the boys were listening to the radio round the shop when the boss called it quits. He put up his tools and shuffled out the door, hunkering down as the wind bit at his cheeks and sent icy pellets skittering down his spine. _I’ll get him some coffee_ , Bucky thought, looking across the street to a warm little joint that was selling it by the cup. He was feeling calmer today. More put together. He had faith he could talk Steve out of his heroic fantasy. The coffee would be Steve’s reward for finally accepting his reality.

            Bucky was feeling great until he knocked on the door to Steve’s apartment. When there was no movement from inside and no one coming to greet him, Bucky got a little worried.

            Okay, more than a little.

            Bucky was nothing if not protective. Steve thought he was a little too protective, possessive even. But Bucky’s argument was, he couldn’t be possessive over what he didn’t have.

            And Steve was not his. He had no right to be possessive of Steve.

            And yet. He was.

            Bucky still wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

            “Steve’s been out for hours.” Jane looked worried, almost as worried as Bucky felt. He’d headed to her house minutes after leaving Steve’s. “I saw him head out at the beginning of the day and I’ve haven’t seen him since. God, I hope the kid’s okay.”

            “Which way did he go?”.

            Jane pointed. “Why?”

            But Bucky was already gone.

            _The damn idiot_ , Bucky cursed at Steve as he ran, looking everywhere for any sign of Steve. _Gonna get himself killed and then what am I gonna do?_

            What _was_ he going to do if Steve died?

            Now that was a scary thought.

            He found Steve wandering out in the snow, head down and buried in his jacket. He swayed this way and that as the wind blew at him, walking on unsteady feet.

            “STEVE!” Bucky shouted, reaching for him, pulling him up the collar of his jacket. “Can you hear me?”

            “Bucky?” Steve’s voice was quiet, nearly torn away by the howling of the snowstorm wind.

            “It’s me, Steve.” Bucky shook him a little, not liking the way Steve’s eyes rolled around and looked through him, as if he couldn’t see him. “It’s me. Bucky!”

            “I -” Steve swayed with the wind and fell forward, bleeding from both his head and his nose.

“Christ.” Bucky swore, picking the kid up and cradling him into his arms. “Ca _-hrist_ , Steve.”

“I’m okay,” he kept muttering, barely clinging to consciousness as Bucky ran him to the hospital. “I’m fine, really.”

He was awake when they entered the hospital. Two minutes later he was out, head lolling against Bucky’s collarbone. “Shit, NURSE!” Bucky screamed, running up and down the halls, looking for somebody, anybody, to take Steve, his Steve. “HELP!”

Finally someone came and a half dozens nurses and doctors followed, whisking Steve away from Bucky and up into the hospital ward. Hours later, Bucky was pacing outside in the waiting room. He’d asked three times to see Steve, and three times he’d been turned away and told Steve's condition was “too fragile” for visitors. It took several minutes and a few threats whispered to the lady behind the front desk before he was finally let in to see him.

“Steve!” Bucky ran to his bedside and found his pale skinny wrist, lying upturned by his side. “Oh shit, Steve. Jesus fucking shit.”

That was the only thing Bucky could think to say. Seeing Steve, lying there, all pale and bruised . . . it tore his heart in two. His lips were pale, his face even paler. His skin, all of it, was white and shiny, like it’d been stretched too thin over his hard, wiry skeleton. The only thing on him that had color were his lips. And they were a deep dark red that was hard to look at. Bucky knew where that color came from. He could see it spilling down the side of his chin and leaking from the bandage wrapped around the top of his head. There were all kinds of tubes plugged into him, so many that he was nearly buried under them all. Bucky wanted to reach down and tear them all off Steve, but he knew if he did . . . there was a good chance Steve wouldn’t live to see another day.

“Jesus.” He sat down heavily, ducking his head below his collarbones. “Christ, Steve.”

“He’ll be okay.” A doctor followed Bucky into the room.

“You sure?” Bucky gripped the hard rails around Steve’s bed like his life depended on it. He looked up at the doctor with wounded little-boy eyes.

But the doctor’s stare didn’t soften. “I’m sure,” he said, nodding his head and turning towards the door. He left without another word and left Bucky staring after him with more than a few curse words lingering like poison on the tip of his tongue.

A nurse came in not long after, checking the various tubes and wires plugged into Steve’s fragile little form.

“Afternoon, doll,” she said, smiling kindly at Bucky as she checked Steve’s IV drip. “Christ, you look terrible.” She snapped her gum, frowning down at him when he didn’t respond to her friendly greeting.

“Not as bad as him.” Bucky snapped at the nurse, wanting to scare her off so he could have this time alone with his best friend.

“Geez.” She propped her hands on her hips, tipping her little white triangle hat down further on her slick dark hair. “And you sound even worse.”

“Look, just leave me alone.” The words came out harsh and clipped. There was something gnawing inside Bucky, beating against the inside of his ribcage and tearing down his lungs and heart. “Leave us alone.” He dropped his gaze, expecting to hear the sharp click of her heels as she strode out of the room.

Instead, she sat down on Steve’s bed, lowering the rails that caged him in with a gentle hand. Bucky looked up at her, ready to snarl or glare or do whatever he could to frighten her off. But her expression stopped him. It was so gentle, so kind and directed right at Steve’s prone form.

“Can’t do that, doll,” she said without looking at him, snapping her gum softly. “See, I’ve grown fond of this kid. And I ain’t gonna let him go without a little comfort.”

Bucky’s mind molded slowly around her words, digesting them in small, manageable chunks. “You know him?”

She looked his way. “Sure I do.” She lifted a hand and rubbed at Steve’s blonde hair, hanging limply on his forehead. Bucky flinched when her hand touched his head, but relaxed when she just moved her fingers back and forth, stroking his hair with a feather-light touch.

“This here’s Steve Rogers,” she said as she rubbed his forehead. “Finest kid in Brooklyn.” She looked Bucky’s way with a secret smile. “And you’re Bucky Barnes. Local charmer.”

Bucky blinked. “How do you - ?”

She waved off his sentence before he could finish it. “I’ve seen you around.” She tipped her chin in Steve’s direction. “You follow him everywhere.”

Bucky laughed and stroked a hand across his chin, feeling the dark stubble collecting there. “I keep him out of trouble.”

“Mighty fine job you’re doing.” She smiled, but her eyes were sad as she stood up to readjust Steve’s IV. “Most of the time anyway.”

“Give it to me straight.” Bucky dipped his head, looking everywhere but the nurse’s face. “How is he?”

She looked at him, then back at the IV bag she was holding, then back at him. Her eyes crinkled when she said, “He’ll be fine.” But there was something in her gaze, something dark and deep that Bucky didn’t trust.

“Be honest with me.” He stood, hands clenched in fists at his sides. “Please, I - I gotta know.”

She looked at the door, at Bucky, back at the door. Then she looked down, tapping her fingers against the IV bag and biting her lip softly.

“ _Please_.” Bucky’s voice cracked just a little. It wasn’t intentional, but it was brilliant and, more importantly, it worked. He watched her heart melt right in front of him.

She sighed deeply and hooked the IV bag onto Steve’s stand, taking a seat back beside him. She waited for Bucky to take a seat before leaning in, gesturing at Bucky to do the same. “Look, I could get fired for saying this.” She looked back at the door, eyes nervous and wide.

“What?” Bucky wanted to squeeze the words out of her. “What’s wrong with him?”

“It’s . . .” she trailed off and shook her head. “Look, he comes in here all the time. Usually its the same stuff, pneumonia, asthma attack, whatever. The Doc thinks its something like that, a minor cold or something.”

There was a but coming. Bucky could feel it. There was always a but, always a catch, always _something_ getting in the way of things. His heart sank when the nurse opened her mouth.

“But I think it’s different this time.”

Bucky’s hands made hard fists beneath the hospital bed where the kind nurse couldn’t see them. “Explain.”

She shook her head, looking off and snapping her gum distractedly. “It’s something about his heart.” She looked back down at Steve. “It doesn’t sound quite right. And then there’s this cut.” She tapped the bandage lightly with her finger, shaking her head again. “It just . . .” she sighed. “Something’s not right.”

“I did that.” Bucky sat back, crossing his arms over his chest to hide his angry fists. When the nurse looked at him with a raised eyebrow, he nodded in Steve’s direction, eyes focusing in on the small little cut.

“How?” The nurse looked at him. Not harshly, but certainly not with the kindly gaze she’d sent him earlier.

“We had a fight.” Bucky’s hands shook and he crossed them tighter over his chest to hide their shaking. “Damn kid wanted to volunteer for the war.”

“He can’t.” The nurse shook her head, eyes wide. “He’d never qualify.”

“I know, look, I know.” Bucky sighed and closed his eyes. “But . . . I got angry. Pushed past him. Not hard or anything. Just a little shove like I would give any other person. But Steve he . . .” Bucky opened his eyes then quickly shut them again, pinching the bridge of his nose sharply.

“He’s not a regular guy.” When Bucky opened his eyes the nurse was watching him with soft, warm eyes. She looked back down at Steve’s limp little form. “He’s a skinny little thing, ain’t he?”

“Report it.” Bucky’s eyes were feverish as they found the nurse’s gaze. He reached forward and clasped her hands, shaking them lightly. “Tell the doctor about the heart thing. Please. It could save his life.”

“No way, kid.” She stood up, shaking off his grip, hands wringing nervous little divots in her skirt. “No way. I’m . . . I’m just a nurse. I got no weight around here.”

“Please.” Bucky moved around the bed, chasing after her as she tried to leave the room. “Please, I’m begging you. Tell the Doc about Steve’s heart. He can’t . . .” Bucky couldn’t even finish the sentence. Shaking his head, he swallowed and tried again. “Look, he can’t die. I won’t let him. He’s . . . he’s all I’ve got.”

The nurse was shaking her head before Bucky even finished. “I can’t, kid, I just -”

“Look at him.” Bucky gestured to Steve, voice catching as he too looked at Steve’s unconscious form. “Just look! He can’t die like this. He can’t. Not now.” Bucky shook his head and stepped back, eyes hard and wounded all at the same time. “Not when its my fault.”

The nurse shook her head sharply. “It’s not your -”

He grabbed her shoulders and shook her lightly. “But it will be!” he hissed. “If he dies, now, it’ll be my fault.” Bucky let go of her and stepped back, looking down at where Steve lay, pale and helpless on the hospital bed. “And I’d have to live with that. I’d have to . . .” The thought ended there.

Yes, Bucky would have to live with the fact that he’d killed Steve. But he didn’t necessarily have to live with it for long.

“Alright.” The nurse wasn’t looking at him when she obliged. She was looking at Steve, her dark eyes focused on the very center of his skinny chest. “Alright. I’ll say something.”

Bucky closed his eyes, every fiber of his body going numb with relief. “You will?”

“Yeah.” She looked at him, searing him with her fiery gaze. “I will. But only cause I think you’ll go crazy without the poor kid.”

“Thank you!” Bucky stood up and shook her hand, shaking her roughly with the force of his enthusiasm. “Thank you so much.”

“Yeah, yeah, kid. Just take care of him while I’m gone, yeah?” She lingered at the door, gaze going soft on Bucky once again. “You know,” she said after a moment, smiling oddly at him. “I have a cousin like you down in New Orleans.”

Bucky nodded absently, looking down at Steve and only half paying attention to her. “Mmhmm.”

“Real bright kid. Pleasure to be around.”

“Sounds like a good guy.”

“He’s the greatest guy I know, despite his condition.”

“That’s - wait, what?” Bucky looked at the nurse, raising his eyebrows so they disappeared into his hairline. “Condition? What condition?”

“Oh, you know.” Her smile was more than friendly now. It was syrupy sweet and almost too big for her face. She looked between Bucky and Steve with her eyes, biting down softly on her thin lower lip.

“No,” Bucky shook his head. “No, I really don’t.” He was sweating a little under his collar.

“Oh, don’t worry,” she winked, tipping her head in Bucky’s direction. “I won’t tell anyone. I think it’s sweet after all, you two being childhood friends and what not.”

“Oh, we’re not -!” Bucky tried to call after her as she left the room, feeling heat crawl its way up his neck and into his cheeks. “I mean, he’s not -!”

“I’ll talk the doctor!” she said as she left. Her smile lingered in the air long after Steve had gone.

It was touch and go for a while after that. Steve woke infrequently and when he did, he was sick and didn’t talk much. Bucky had to force food down his throat sometimes, much to Steve’s frustration. There were a few times, a precious few, where Bucky thought he was actually going to lose Steve.

They talked about it in whispers when Steve was holding onto his consciousness with both hands and when Bucky was trying to gently put him to sleep.

“You’re gonna be okay after I -” Steve coughed and Bucky cringed, wishing Steve would just shut up and get some sleep. “I mean, you’re gonna live, right? You’ll move on and have a good -”

“No.” Bucky shook his head fiercely, trying not to saw his lower lip off as he bit down hard with his teeth. “Not without you.”

“Bucky . . .”

Bucky leaned over the bedside and found Steve’s gaze among the wires and tubes. “Not. Without. You,” he said slowly and deliberately, making sure Steve got the message.

And he did. He wasn’t happy about it, but he got it.

So Bucky made a plan while Steve fought and fought against the sickness inside him. And all the while, on the other side of the world, men were drying in droves. And so the clock counted down the seconds until the time when the two would be parted for real - even if neither of them knew that time was coming.

Turned out that nurse really did know something about Steve’s heart. Her advice saved his life, saved Bucky’s life. He didn’t know how to show his appreciation at the time, so he left her with a hug and a kiss on the cheek but it seemed time had rewarded her well enough.

Bucky visited that hospital later in his life, after everything with Shield and Hydra and after most of his memories had returned. He found her name and picture staring at him above a doorway when he entered, and saw a little plaque off to the side that talked about her legacy. She went on to be the hospital’s chief surgeon. Saved hundreds of lives in her time, most of them children’s.

 _And the good shall be rewarded,_ Bucky thought as he left the hospital with a secret smile, tipping his head down and walking slowly down along the sidewalk. _We down here might not know what the hell we’re doing, but at least somebody does. And he’s taking care of his own._

Remembering that day, Bucky thought of another day, another time when he’d realized the little kid he’d grown up with had become so much more to him than a friend. It came not long after he’d gotten his letter, The Letter as Bucky liked to think of it.

He’d already told Jane - let her hold him as he cried - and he remembered mentioning it in passing to Steve, maybe in a short conversation on his way to work or something. He wasn’t shipping out quite yet; he didn’t even know where he was being assigned. No, The Letter was just his draft notice, but it was enough to set him on edge.

So Bucky was headed home from a long day at work - his last, actually - when he made a detour down Steve’s street, heading for his apartment. Even as he climbed the stairs up to his door, Bucky was scolding himself, trying desperately to turn his feet around.

 _You can’t go in there you idiot,_ he screamed at himself. _You’re gonna make a show! You’re gonna make him hate you!_

The tight lid Bucky kept on his emotions was cracking. It was coming loose and there was nothing he could do to stop it. His thoughts were dark and roiling. He was treading in dangerous waters and he wanted, more than anything, to pull Steve in with him. To share those dirty thoughts with him.

He hated himself when he was with Steve at the same time he hated the time they spent apart. Of the two evils, Bucky had decided he’d rather hate himself than waste the little time they had left to spend together. But that didn’t mean Bucky was proud of his decision.

“Steve?” he called when he opened the door. “You home?”

For a second Bucky thought he wasn’t and his momentary feeling of relief was so intense it made him feel guilty.

“Go away!” A hoarse shout echoed out from Steve’s kitchen, in a voice that did not at all sound like Steve.

“Steve?” Bucky ran down the hallway and rounded the corner into the kitchen. “Steve, are you -?” The rest of his sentence was lost when he saw Steve slumped forward on his kitchen table, head buried deep in his arms. The breath whooshed out of Bucky’s lungs and left a solid frozen lump in the middle of his chest.

“Steve!” he called, grabbing Steve by the shoulder and shaking him roughly. “Steve? Hey, Steve?”

“Whadda ya want?” Steve slurred, rolling one eye in Bucky’s direction.

“Steve?” Bucky let go of him, looking around the disheveled room. There were some torn up newspapers in the corner by the trash can and a couple dozen empty boxes, smelling of food and sweat and all things unpleasant. And then, sitting on the counter not far from Steve’s hand, was a tall beer bottle, half empty and rimmed with spit.

“Oh my god.” Bucky grabbed the bottle and emptied in the sink, trying very hard not to crush the bottle between his fist. “What the hell are you thinking, moron?!”

“I just wanted a drink.” Steve sniffed, head lolling to the side. He followed Bucky’s movements with weak, blurry eyes, nodding his head up and down in tune to some ghostly rhythm.

“Steve, you can’t drink.” When the bottle was empty, Bucky threw it into the sink with such force it shattered,sending an arc of brown glass spraying up onto the counter. “Oh shit.”

“Leave it.” Steve nodded, waving his hands towards the mess. “Just leave it. It doesn’t matter.”

“Shit, Steve.” Anger rose in the pit of Bucky’s stomach. It curled around his ribcage and played with his internal organs, burning him from the inside out and making his fingers shake around the glass shards. “You’ll cut yourself,” he said through gritted teeth, bending to pick up all the fallen shards.

“I told you, it doesn’t matter!” Steve’s voice was a little louder, disgruntled and hoarse from drinking. “Nothing matters anymore,” he said sullenly, dropping his head back onto his hands.

“Oh shit.” Bucky closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose.

They stood like that for a few moments. Steve, slumped on the kitchen table with his nose pressing against the raw wood grain. Bucky, leaning against the counter with angry shaking hands and an intense desire to throttle the living daylights out of his best friend.

Finally, Bucky managed to cap his rising anger.

“You only drank half a bottle,” he said tiredly, pulling his face out of his hands and looking at Steve’s slumped pathetic form.

“Shaddup.” Steve grumbled from within the cave of his arms.

“Damn, featherweight.” Bucky moved towards him, trying on a hard grin while he wrapped his arm around his friend’s shoulders. “Doesn’t take much to knock you out.”

“Piss off, soldier.”

“Oh come on, now.” Bucky lifted Steve in one smooth motion, carrying him towards his open bedroom door. “Don’t be mean.”

“All I want to do is help people.” Steve sniffed as Bucky laid him down on the bed, bunching the covers up by his neck. “And all you want to do is help me.”

Bucky froze, hands fluffing the pillow behind Steve’s head. It seemed Steve was more aware of things as a drunk than he was sober.

“You’re damn right I do.” Bucky’s heart jumped even as he said the words.

“So why are you going to war and not me?” Steve propped himself up onto his elbows, his face holding steady mere inches from Bucky’s. “Why do you get to help people while I gotta sit here and waste away?”

Bucky shook his head tightly, fluffing Steve’s pillow a little harder than necessary. “No one’s wasting away.” His gaze was hard when he moved away, pressing Steve into the bed with a light hand on his chest. “I’ll be back before you know it, okay?”

“But you'll be different. And I'll probably be dead.” Steve turned away from Bucky, rolling onto his skinny side so he wouldn’t have to face him.

“God, what a pessimist.” Bucky ignored Steve’s terrible attitude and sat back on his bed, resting his back on the headboard and crossing his arms behind his head. “In all the years I’ve known you, I never pictured you as a mean drunk.”

Steve didn’t respond so Bucky just kept on talking, trying to force down the lump of grief in his chest with every word he spoke.

“I never pictured you getting drunk at all, to be honest.” Bucky tried laughing but the sound was strained and harsh. “I’m supposed to be the stupid one, remember.”

“You _are_ the stupid one.” Steve growled and Bucky sent a look in his direction.

There was a pause.

Bucky’s mouth faltered around his next few words. He debated whether or not to tell Steve the truth. It seemed appropriate after all. Oblivious little Steve, Bucky’s cute and lost and oh-so-innocent best friend, was drunk and as dirty as Bucky. At least, that’s what Bucky was pretending. The meaner Steve was, the more Bucky could pretend and the closer he got to breaking all the rules.

“God, Steve, would you quit moping already?” Bucky tried to pull the kid up, gently tugging on the back of his shirt to try and get him to sit up. “So you’re not going to war, big deal? You’re gonna live, you jerk. You’ll be out and living the good life while the rest of us are worm food out on the battlefield.”

“Don’t you say that!” Steve sat up sharply, getting right in Bucky’s face with his teeth bared. “Don’t you _ever_ say that!”

“Easy, tiger.” Bucky grinned, trying to defuse the sudden tension. On the inside, he was screaming. This was his moment. This was it. _Wind him up then knock him down_ , he thought to himself. _He’ll never even know what hit him._ “Calm down.”

“You’re gonna come back.” Steve was so close. One gentle tug and he would fall right into Bucky’s arms. He reached out with two small fists and grabbed the collar of Bucky’s jacket, shaking him lightly with bloodshot blue eyes. “You hear me?”

“Well, you gotta promise to stay healthy.” Bucky curled his lip up, poking his finger into the center of Steve’s chest hard enough for it to hurt.

Steve sat back on his heels, still holding onto Bucky’s collar. “And what if I can’t?”

“Shut up.” Bucky’s anger was back in full force.

There was something about Steve’s eyes, something in them that made Bucky incredibly angry. Maybe it was the way they crinkled slightly when Steve looked at him, or the way they softened before they got hard when he was sad. Those eyes haunted Bucky's dreams at night, made him want to start throwing punches at anybody who dared to mess with his Steve.

"You're gonna live. You hear me, punk?" His hands fisted around Steve's collar. Now they were both holding on to each other, holding on so tightly to what wasn't theirs to hold. "You're gonna live, you goddamn punk. Cause if you don't I swear to God I'm coming after you."

Steve's eyes got real big like he was surprised or hurt. That only made Bucky madder.

"I mean it, Steve." His hands slipped from Steve's collar up to the back of his neck. His face moved closer and Steve edged backwards with eyes too wide to be real. "You're gonna live. I ain't letting you die."

It seemed like the right thing to say. And although he wasn't drunk - he was morbidly sober as a matter of fact - he suddenly felt dizzy. The grief and the anger and the bone crushing weight of it all pressed down on Bucky's chest. He prayed to whoever was running things upstairs that Steve would forget this, sighed brokenly, and leaned forward.

He caught Steve by surprise, thank God, and reeled him in before the little punk had a chance to rabbit out of there. His mouth was warm and sweet against Bucky’s. The dark amber taste of Steve’s beer lingered on his lips and Bucky sucked it up, digging feverishly into Steven’s mouth with his own.

“You goddamn punk,” he muttered between kisses. “You’re not gonna die, you hear me?” He kissed down Steve’s mouth, tangling his fingers into his thin blonde hair. “I ain’t letting you.”

“Bucky . . .?” Steve didn’t try to kiss him back; Bucky didn’t even think he knew how to. But he was so lost in the moment, so caught up in the taste of Steve’s mouth and the feel of his hair curling around Bucky’s fingers, that he didn’t care. He kept saying his name in a voice muted by the sound of their lips pressing together. “Bucky?”

Three heartbeats later, Bucky pushed him back. He had to. Or else, he was going to keep kissing him. And keep kissing him. And maybe even do some of the stuff he imagined when he was half asleep. He could Steve’s skin, warm and frail and pressed so close to his. He could see it in his mind and right in front of him. But he couldn’t have it. He just couldn’t. Not like this.

“I gotta go.” He stumbled away from Steve and out the door before Steve could catch his breath to form a response.

The next morning, Bucky helped nurse Steve through his hangover, trying to forget what Steve’s lips tasted like on his and what his hair had felt like under Bucky’s fingers.

Bucky was thinking about all this and more when he finally found the courage to knock on Steve’s door. He’d been watching him for a few weeks, guarding his every step, and hanging around the SHIELD offices when Steve took it upon himself to work late. The little (eh, maybe _little_ wasn’t the right word anymore) punk had relocated after everything in Washington, moving back to New York and into the Stark tower with Tony and the rest of the gang.

The elevator up was far too long for Bucky’s comfort. He’d managed to sneak his way past a dozen different robotic guards, hack his way into three different databases for the information he needed to access the elevator’s computer mainframe, and then the damn thing welcomed him aboard.

“Good evening, sir.” A low british voice spoke out of nowhere as Bucky boarded the elevator. “Is Mr. Rogers expecting you?”

Jarvis, as the computer called itself, gave Bucky quite a surprise, but he grudgingly admitted its usefulness after it sent a message on ahead to the Avengers crew (gathering at the top floor of the Stark skyscraper). He talked to the thing as the elevator moved upwards, but gradually grew quiet as his nerves overtook him.

How would Steve react to seeing Bucky after so long? It had been almost half a year since all that crap in DC and Bucky’s mind was, more or less, intact. He’d read everything he could find on James Buchanan Barnes and his relationship with Captain America. He’d even broken into the Smithsonian special exhibit a few times, snatching a few big ticket items like Captain America’s personal sketchbook and Bucky’s own private diary.

Six months later, Bucky’s head was saturated, full of the wonderful dream that was Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes. He wanted it. Wanted their love and their desperate, hoping relationship. Memories like his first kiss with Steve or the winter of 1939 were coming back more and more frequently and each time they did Bucky sat back and let them hit with full force.

He wanted Steve Rogers. He wanted his life back. He wanted everything Hydra and World War Two and over seventy years of ice had taken away from him. And it was about damn time too.

“I’m here, Steve.” Bucky murmured to himself, in a whisper so low Jarvis’s sensors couldn’t even pick it up. He practiced the words over and over, trying to find the right thing to say in the quiet space of the elevator. “And I’m me. I’m Bucky.”

Finally, finally, the elevator dinged.

“We have arrived, sir.” Jarvis’s polite voice washed over Bucky’s ears like a soothing balm and he took a deep breath, preparing himself for whatever lay beyond those metal doors.

Apparently, he wasn’t prepared enough.

When the doors opened and Bucky stepped outside, he ran into a thin girl, all shadows and dark hair and big blue eyes.

“Shit,” she gasped, backing out of Bucky’s arms and taking a few steps back. “Shit.” She said again, folding shaky fingers over her lips. “Oh shit.”

“Bucky!”

Bucky listened for Steve’s voice but heard Tony Stark’s instead - the suave techie millionaire that acted a little too much like his father. “Grab her!”

His voice was rough with the order and Bucky responded immediately, reaching out with his metal arm to grab the girl’s skinny wrist.

“Hey!” She tried pulling back, but Bucky pulled her closer, looking at Stark with the hooded eyes of the Winter Soldier. He twisted her arm once and she dropped, going limp in his grasp.

He blinked once and Bucky was back. He dropped the girl and she collapsed, breathing hard at his feet. She cradled her bruised - but otherwise unhurt - arm to her wrist and tried to move away from him, but found a wall at her back and the looming force of the Avengers gang in front of her.

“Please!” she gasped, looking at Bucky with wide, pleading eyes. “I can help you.”

“What the hell.” Bucky looked at his metal hand, flexing those stiff metal digits before clenching them into a tight, balled fist. He sent Stark a dark glance. “What’s going on?”

“Get up!” Tony bent and grabbed the girl’s injured arm, hauling her away from Bucky and towards the waiting elevator door. “It’s a trip down to the SHIELD HQ for you.”

“No, please!” She fought back, cringing against the pain as Tony’s grip on her hurt wrist only tightened. She found Bucky’s eyes and he was startled by the sincerity in them, the iron strength that was coupled with just the right amount of bruised vulnerability.

“Bucky!” He jerked when she called his name, but didn’t move, looking at her with his head tilted at an angle. “Please! Steve’s been taken!”

Bucky froze and the room froze with him. His eyes slipped closed of their own accord and when they opened, it was the Winter Soldier, not Bucky, that was staring out of them.

 


	2. The Girl with No Last Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky fights the influence of the Winter Soldier to hear the mysterious girl tell the story of Steve's disappearance and when she's finished, he has to decided whether or not to risk the entire rescue operation over the word of one little girl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yayyyyy chapter two. Stucky has seriously taken over my life, it's disgraceful. Thanks to everyone who left comments or kudos, or bookmarks, it really made me day. So thank you. This one's pretty long, but the action really starts to pick up next chapter. As always enjoy, and please tell me what you think.

The Girl With No Last Name

Somewhere deep inside him, Bucky could hear himself screaming.

“For the last time, I’m not a terrorist.” The girl tipped her glare directly into Fury’s face. “Scout’s honor.”

“Can you see why I’m not inclined to believe that?” Fury matched her glare and pushed back, scaring her into silence. “You hacked your way into Stark Tower, overrode the basic security controls of the smartest man I know to tell us Steve was kidnapped by a bunch of Nazis?” He bent and placed his hands on the table, crunching his palms down into the metal.

The girl closed her eyes and shook her head, lips puckered into a tight angry bow. “Not Nazis, Director. HYDRA.”

Bucky closed his eyes.

“Are you sure it was a good call?” Bucky heard a few voices whispering behind him. “Calling Fury in? Wouldn’t it have been better to take her down to SHIELD?”

‘Well considering Brain Freeze over there wouldn’t let us touch her . . .” That was Tony's voice, directed at Bucky’s rigid back. “I’d say it was the only call we could make.”

Clearing his throat, Bucky turned away from the window looking in on Fury’s makeshift interrogation room (a sealed section of Tony’s extensive laboratory) and addressed Stark. “Look, I didn’t mean to - “

Stark cut him off with a wave of his hand. “Save it. I wouldn’t have let you in if I couldn’t handle a little mess.”

Bucky shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck with his metal hand. “I’m still sorry,” he muttered lowly, looking around the trashed room.

He’d . . . kind of . . . lost it. When the girl said Steve was missing . . . well, both he and the part of him that was the Winter Soldier worked in tandem to try and tear down the Stark  tower brick by brick.

“You might want to apologize to her though,” Stark said after a moment, nodding at the girl through the glass. “Assuming she’s not actually a terrorist.”

Bucky cringed and turned back to her. He’d given her quite a beating. Thrown her halfway across the room before he’d managed to reign in his anger. Looking back at her, Bucky frowned, tracing his eyes across the fresh cut on her forehead and the forming bruise he’d left under her right eye.

“Don’t feel bad, man.” A new guy came to stand beside Bucky, dressed in all black with an odd group of crisscrossing bands strapped across his right forearm. He looked at Bucky with a sympathetic face. “I know what’s its like to have someone else calling the shots up there.” He tapped his temple with a finger.

Bucky looked at him, eyebrows raised.

“Sucks doesn’t it,” the man continued, arms crossed solidly over his chest. “To have someone else in there, playing with your brain.” He shook his head, looking down. “Just burns, to know you’re not always in control.”

After a brief pause, Bucky held his arm out to the guy. “What’s your name?”

 “Clint.” He took his arm and shook it, a small half smile curling his lips up. “Clint Barton.”

“Bucky Barnes.”

They shook hands.

“Yeah, I know you.” Cint grinned. “Steve never shut up about you.”

Bucky didn’t blush, at least, not outwardly. But on the inside he was lit up and flush with warmth. The Winter Soldier inside him eased off for a second, grumbling quietly to himself.

“So,” Clint changed the subject effortlessly, nodding at the girl in the room before them. “Think she’s telling the truth?”

Bucky looked at her with a critical eye.

She sighed heavily, frustration burned into the dark bags beneath her eyes. “Look, I’m just trying to help.”

“How’d you find us?” Phil and Fury had traded places and were taking turns questioning her.

The girl snorted. “This place ain’t hard to find.”

Bucky grinned despite himself.

“Obviously you do.” Clint matched his smile.

“I threw her.” Bucky shook his head, watching her mouth off to Fury. “Across the freaking room. And she got back up and kept talking.” He looked at Clint. “That takes guts.”

Clint shrugged. “Or good training.”

Bucky’s frown deepened. “I just . . . there’s something about her.”

Clint nodded. He was assassin, Bucky was a soldier; they trusted their instincts, their gut feelings, and their wit. And sometimes that was the only thing that kept them alive.

“You think she’s good for her word?”

Bucky hesitated before he nodded.

“Well, one thing’s for certain,” Sam Wilson said, coming in from the Stark balcony with a gust of wind at his back. Shrugging his shoulders, he popped his mechanical wings back into their pack on his back, tucking it flat against his shoulder blades. “Steve’s gone.”

“You sure?” Clint asked, keeping a careful eye on Bucky as he spoke.

“I checked all his usual hangouts.” Sam nodded, taking off his flight goggles. “I flew over the whole city for good measure.” He tossed them onto a low glass coffee table and flopped into a seat, shaking his head. “I don’t know what to tell you. I think she’s right.” Sam frowned, scrubbing his face tiredly. “Steve’s gone.”

“Hmm,” Clint said curtly, giving Bucky a side-eyed glance.

Bucky looked back at the girl with worry digging cold fingers into his gut.

“How did you find Steve?” Phil asked inside the interrogation room.

“And more importantly, why were you looking for him?” Fury sat down in front of her, arms crossed over his chest. “ _Why_ were you looking for Captain America?”

“I wasn’t.” She snapped. Bucky blinked in surprise and the girl looked up, seeming to meet his eyes through the glass. Then she sighed, looking down and visibly composing herself.. When she looked up, she was calmer, fingers tapping an odd beat on the metal tabletop. “I wasn’t looking for _Captain America_. I was looking for Steve Rogers.”

The hand resting on the tabletop twitched, clenching around her own skinny wrist.

Bucky raised his hand to knock on the glass before he could stop himself. He could feel the eyes of the room on him as he banged on the glass with his metal fist, turning on his heel and stomping across the floor to the other side of the room.

“You want Fury?” Clint asked him as Bucky strode past.

“I need to talk to him,” he barked with the rough voice of the Winter Soldier.

Clint’s eyes darkened, but he nodded. Bucky went out onto the balcony Sam had just come in from, shutting the door with a sharp clatter. Wind whipped into his face and through his hair, giving him the sharp burst of clarity he so desperately needed him.

The way she’d said his name . . . It had rattled him. She clearly wasn’t looking for the super soldier . . . she was looking for that little kid from Brooklyn, the one Bucky lived to protect.

Bucky could feel _him_ rising, burning a path up from the center of his gut. It wasn’t a hot burn, no, his burn was cold and deep. It started low in Bucky’s core, rising with his breath until it burned up into his throat and every corner of his brain. This is how it’d felt when he’d thrown that girl across the room, when he’d attacked Steve that first time, when he’d shot his target through Natasha’s stomach.

This was him. The Winter Soldier.

It seemed Bucky would never fully escape him.

“You wanted to see me?” Fury came to him slowly, sensing the danger rising like the burning cold in Bucky’s throat.

“I need to talk to her.” Bucky forced out the words, reaching a fist down into his pocket and crunching his fingers together. The pain, the physical pain of his grinding his fingers against each other, worked to beat back the Winter Soldier, but it was only temporary. Bucky could feel him settling, burning a cold spot right beneath his ribcage. He wasn’t gone, just dormant, forced into silence by the sheer force of Bucky’s will.

When he was calmer, Bucky tried again, shaking his head and drawing his hand slowly out of his pocket. “You gotta let me talk to her.”

Fury was shaking his head before Bucky had even finished his sentence. “No way,” he said. “No way, Barnes. You’re too close to this.”

“What, and you’re not?” Bucky raised an eyebrow skeptically. “Look, it doesn’t matter. I have to talk to her.”

“Why?” Fury’s good eye narrowed. “What do you think you’re going to get out of her?”

“Her name for one thing.” Bucky sneered softly. “All this time questioning her and you didn’t think to once ask for a name? Or an address?”

Fury’s expression didn’t change, but Bucky could feel a certain disgruntled embarrassment radiating from him.

Two minutes later, Bucky was in the interrogation room, sliding into the seat Fury had vacated.

The girl wouldn’t look at him. She kept her gaze down, studiously studying a speck of dust on Stark’s cool metal work table. There were no cuffs on her arms, no restraints bound across her wrists, but Bucky thought there might as well have been, so rigid was her posture in front of him.

After a few minutes of silence, he cleared his throat, noting the way she jumped and looked at him out of the corner of her eyes. She quickly looked away, but it was something. Enough for Bucky to work with anyway.

“So,” he said, counting the heartbeats between his words and her reply. “What’s your name?”

“Robyn,” she said after a moment, still not looking at him.

Bucky nodded. “Is that your real name?”

She quickly turned to look at him, face scrunched up in a kind of self-righteous anger. “Of course it is,” she huffed, blushing when she realized her mistake.

Bucky almost smiled. Almost. “Last name?”

There was a pause in which Bucky listened to the careful sound of her choosing her next few words.

“I’m not a liberty to say.” She seemed rather pleased with her choice. She almost smiled up at him, but quickly looked away, face dark with something Bucky couldn’t read. Bucky snickered a little, too softly for her to hear.

“Tell her she better give us a last name,” Fury buzzed in Bucky’s ear. He’d made him wear a stupid communicator - a little walkie-talkieish thing that looked nothing like what Tony had called him (A bluetooth? Seriously what the fuck was up with this century?) - and was checking in periodically, trying to get Bucky to ask her specific questions. “Cause last time I checked we don’t give those terrorists down in Guantanamo any liberties.”

“Oh for Christ’s sake.” Bucky took the little thing out of his ear and smashed it between his metal fingers, looking back toward the glass window overlooking the room. “Shut up,” he growled, glaring in what he hoped was Fury’s general direction. “She’s not a terrorist.”

When he turned back around, the girl, _Robyn_ , was looking at him, blue eyes wide and hopeful. “You believe me?” she breathed, twisting a lock of dark hair around her finger.

Bucky nodded slowly. “I do.”

Her whole posture changed. She relaxed in front of him, melting onto the tabletop with a relieved sigh. “Thank God,” she said into the metal and Bucky raised an eyebrow, watching her reach into her back pocket.

“What are you -”

“Okay, look.” She pulled a small screen out of her back pocket, tapping it with a few fingers. It bloomed to life under her touch, casting a soft blue glow back up into her face. “I wasn’t going to show you this -”

Bucky leaned forward, eyes wide. “What the hell is that?”

“It’s a camera.” She held out the small flat device and Bucky saw Steve, frozen with wide-eyes and tousled hair, in the camera’s shot.

“How did you get this?” The cold came creeping up Bucky’s shoulder, radiating up his neck and into the line of his jaw.

“Hit play.” She nodded at the device, eyes wide and earnest. “I managed to catch a little bit of video before they got Steve out of there.”

 _Steve . . ._ Bucky scowled at her casual use of his name. He saw something silver winking at her neckline before it vanished into her shirt. Frowning, Bucky turned back to the thin little screen she’d handed him - that was _definitely_ not a camera, at least not the ones he was used to - and tapped his flesh finger on the top.

“Let go of me!” The screen sprung to life and suddenly Steve was moving, shouting and twisting in the arms of three hooded men. “Hey, get off!”

“Keep him quiet!” one of the men hissed, stuffing a dirty rag into Steve’s mouth while pulling his arm far back behind his head.

Muffled grunts from Steve accompanied the sound of flesh hitting flesh and suddenly one of the men was gone, out of the view of the camera’s lens. Somewhere off screen, Bucky listened to the sound of the man’s body crunching into the wall with vicious pleasure.

“Get off!” Steve spit the rag out of his mouth and knocked another man into the wall before one of the men hooked a rope around his neck, pulling him down onto the ground. “Get . . . off . . . !”

He twisted on the ground, pulling at the rope around his neck. Bucky watched, pained, as he gradually grew still, limbs falling loose and open on the ground. The video ended with Steve being carted off by the men, tucked under their arms and arms dragging against the floor.

Bucky had to fight the urge to smash his fist into the little camera. It would have been oh so satisfying to hear it crunch and groan beneath his metal palm.

“Why didn’t you help?” he hissed, looking at the girl with narrowed blue eyes.

She just looked at him, lips puckered in a disbelieving line. “Are you kidding me?” She looked behind him, speaking to someone just over his shoulder. “Is he joking?”

Bucky hadn’t heard Clint or Fury come in, but now that they were in he desperately wanted them out. The room was too full, too crowded for Bucky to think properly.

“She doesn’t know how to fight.” Clint was speaking to someone, maybe Bucky, compiling a list of obvious facts Bucky could see but refused to believe. “They would’ve knocked her down in one blow and then we’d be down one material witness.”

“Is that Stark technology?” Fury looked at the thin little camera she held. “Cause it looks an awful lot like what’s hanging out around here.”

Robyn shook her head, clenching her fist around the thin piece of metal. “It’s not -”

Fury didn’t let her finish. “And how were you able to take the footage anyway? Seems to me like you were awfully close. I think they would’ve heard a little girl nosing around during their kidnapping.”

“It wasn’t hard.” Robyn’s hand tightened around the camera before she released it, sliding in Fury’s direction. “You’d be surprised how many people overlook a girl like me.”

Looking at her, Bucky did not find that hard to believe. She was an average girl. Average height, average weight (if a little on the skinny side), average looks, average smile, average hair, average waist . . . the list went on and on. But there _was_ something different about her that Bucky couldn’t quite place. It hid in the corner of her eyes, back behind her irises. It was a low shimmering glow that sparked Bucky’s interest and made him want to lean in closer.

“So why didn’t you take this to the cops?” Bucky’s metallic fingers rattled against the tabletop as he tapped them hard against the metal. “Why’d you take it to SHIELD first?”

The girl scowled in Fury’s direction, looking down at where Bucky’s fingers were resting. “I didn’t want to take them to SHIELD - No offense, Director.”

“Offense taken,” Fury scoffed, tossing the camera back in her direction.

“It’s just . . .” she looked away. “With everything that’s come to light, all the scandal between SHIELD and HYDRA, I just . . .” She shook her head. “I came to give the footage to Bucky, not to you.”

She looked his way and Bucky found himself on the receiving end of a rather hard stare, laced with pain and sadness that he didn’t know how to handle.

“I’ve been looking for Steve for a while now.” Her hand went to her throat and Bucky saw the winking flash of silver at her neckline.

“Why?” Bucky tried to keep his voice neutral, but the twist in her expression told him he’d failed.

“There was . . .” she trailed off, biting her lip. Taking a deep breath, she started again. “I needed to . . .” She let her head fall back, chin tipped up towards the ceiling. “Ugh, this is difficult.”

“Would this have anything to do with Maria Mast’s murder?”

If Bucky had thought the room was crowded before, it was nothing compared to the moment when Natasha strolled on in through the doors.

Robyn’s eyes got really big, really fast and Bucky watched with keen interest as something like awe bled into the light radiating from behind her pupils. Natasha stepped up beside Bucky and rested a hand on his shoulder, tossing a thin manila envelope onto the table in front of Robyn. A picture slid out from within the folder’s confines and Bucky saw a picture of a smiling young waitress, covered in dirt and grime but smiling widely.

“How’d you know about that?” Robyn snatched at the photo and looked at it carefully, tapping her finger against the girl’s face.

Natasha shrugged, a smirk playing around her lips. “There’s an apartment in the same building as Steve’s registered to a Maria N. Mast.” She nodded in the folder’s direction. “Said on the paperwork that she’d taken a roommate, a young girl named Robyn.” She cast her eyes in Fury’s direction, shrugging lightly. “No last name mentioned.”

Robyn breathed out a shaky sigh of relief. Bucky heard it and tilted his chin in her direction.  

“After her death two years ago, the ownership of the apartment was transferred over to Robyn, but the payment was still registered in Maria Mast’s name.”

“She had paid for almost three years in advance.” Robyn nodded, gently setting the photo down back on top of the table. “Worked as a waitress a couple blocks over at this nice little dinner place.” Her eyes were soft when she looked up from the photo. “She was nice.”

“You were in upstate New York at the time of her death.” Natasha walked around the table towards Robyn, sitting on the edge and opening up the file to read from its contents. “Airtight alibi. Never considered a suspect in her murder.”

Bucky watched her hands clench into fists on top of the table. “No,” she said slowly, biting down around the word. “I was attending my father’s funeral.”

Bucky’s ears perked. “Want to give us a name?”

She shook her head mutely.

“We’ll you’ve been a great help.” Fury’s mouth was tight, his good eye narrowed to a thin slit. “Really.” He stood up, arms crossed over his chest. “Now in case you’ve got any real evidence for us, I suggest you bring it up before I let Mr. Wilson give you an express trip down to the street.”

Bucky scowled in Fury’s direction, but Robyn beat him to the punch, speaking before he did.

“Look, I think you’re pretty fucking scary, Director, so you can stop trying to intimidate the shit out of me because let me tell you, its working.” Robyn glared at him and Bucky had to physically beat back his smile. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before she continued. “I think I know where they took Steve, or, at the very least,” she said when the room turned to her with wide eyes. “Where the kidnappers might have come from.”

“Should’ve mentioned that before, kid.” Fury leaned over the table, hand outstretched, alm up towards her. “Hand it over.”

She took another deep breath and Bucky could see she was preparing for a fight. “I’m not giving it to you,” she said slowly, watching as all faces turned against her, red with anger and irritation. “Unless you take me with you.”

When she finished her sentence, she was looking directly at Bucky, ignoring the angry eyes of everyone else in the room. Her hand went again to her throat and Bucky narrowed his eyes at the little spark of silver there.

“Take me with you. And I’ll tell you everything I know.”


	3. Working Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Bucky and Robyn travel to Steve's apartment they find several dead bodies with no explanation as to how they go there. More importantly, Bucky realizes at the apartment that Robyn and Steve have been living together for a few months. Just what is Robyn hiding from him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So some people were getting confused about who Maria Mast was (its explained in this chapter but whatever) basically she was Robyn's roommate and as to who exactly she was . . . well, she was that girl from the Avenger's movie. You know the waitress in the pink dress. Remember her? Yeah, well the camera followed her a little too often in the movie so I made up a reason as to why it did. Also tacked on to the end of this chapter I included a little vamp!bucky thing based on that popular text post on tumblr. I couldn't help myself, sorry. If it gets annoying I'll move it to a separate thing but for now just think of it as a little extra treat at the end of this chapter. lol. Enjoy and as always tell me what you think.

Working Day

Two years ago

The call went straight to voicemail.

“Hi, this is Robyn. I can’t get to the phone right now, so please leave a message after the beep. Thanks!”

Backing into her apartment door, Maria sighed, cradling the phone between her chin and shoulder. “Hey, Robyn. It’s me.” She shifted the armful of plastic grocery bags higher up, resting the bundle on her hip. She walked through her darkened apartment slowly, leaving the door open so a little light could find its way in. “Let me tell you about the day I’ve had . . .” she trailed off and shook her head.

She found the kitchen and dropped her grocery bags on the counter, letting herself flop onto the cold plastic with them. “Ugh,” she breathed into the phone. “Just ugh.”

Taking a deep breath, she turned around, walking through her apartment and flipping on lights as she went.

“First of all, _aliens_.” She stopped in front of a mirror, scowling at her appearance. Dirty blonde hair falling in ragged curls around her face. Her pink work uniform was stained with the dust of the day. She was bleeding in several places, just a few shallow wounds, but enough to make her tired. She stuck her tongue out at her reflection and reached up to peel the phone away from her ear.

“Yeah, I mean that was weird,” she continued, walking back to the doorway. “I’m sure you saw it on the news, but let me tell you it was intense. But hey, I found your man.” She smiled into the phone, standing by the doorway with her hand propped on her hip. “Captain Rogers. I saw him. He was right in front of me, actually. Saved my life.”        

She bit her lip and turned in a circle, smiling softly. “He seemed like a sweetie. I know you’re not looking for him for _that_ , babe, but . . .” she trailed off turning to the door. “If he’s interested . . .” She rested her palm against the closed door, nodding and turning away with the phone in hand. “Lord knows you could use the relaxation . . .” she trailed off suggestively, grinning into the phone.

“Anyway, I’m gonna see if I can talk to him. He and the others are hanging around the city for a few days getting involved in the clean-up and all that. I’ll see how close I can get to him, maybe ask him a few questions . . .”

She sat down at the kitchen table, staring at the pile of groceries she had to unload with a frown. “But look, before I do that . . . are you sure you want to do this? Follow your father’s work, I mean. You told me you came to New York to get away from all that and now you’re stepping right back into it?”

She shook her head. “Look, I’m probably overstepping my bounds, hon, but I care about you. You’re a sweet kid and I want to see you grow up straight. And your father’s work, his research . . . it’s a dead end. It’s going to bring you nothing but pain and heartache, sweetie. I hate to say it, but it’s true. I mean, look what it did to your dad! It drove him mad and left you with nothing but a mountain of debt and a circle of enemies.”

She dropped her face into her palm, cringing with her face turned away from the phone. “Oh God, that was mean. Look I didn’t . . .” she trailed off, searching for something, anything, to say that wasn’t as terrible as what she’d already said. “Sorry, God, I’m sorry, Robyn. You know how I am with words.” She laughed tiredly. “Anyway, I’m going to talk to him, for you, but I want you to think about what I said. I don’t want you giving up your life chasing your father’s dream.”

Her fingers curled around the phone. She slid a look to the left, to the pile of sketchbooks Robyn had left in her haste to travel upstate. “You’ve already got your living, Rob. Your work is good. Great, even. And I’ll help. However I can. I just don’t want you to end up like your dad.” The words sizzled on the tip of her tongue, burning a line down her throat. “You’re not your dad, honey. His dreams don’t define you. Remember that. Please.”

She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, rubbing her face into her dirty palm. “Okay. Talk to you later, Rob. Please, please call me. I’m leaving work tomorrow to drive up for the funeral. Don’t worry, I’ll bring your sketchbooks and everything. Just please . . . don’t do anything stupid until I get there.

 “Love you. Bye.” The words felt awfully hollow after everything she’d already said.

 Sighing, Maria put down the phone and relaxed into her chair, scrubbing her face down her palms. Frowning, she tipped her head to the side, staring past the kitchen table towards her darkened doorway.

_Funny_ , she thought. _I don’t remember shutting the door._

She didn’t remember because she never had. Somebody else had shut the door for her. A big, hulking guy who reached down and dragged her out of her chair before she could think to scream.

He was a huge guy, with long dark hair that hung around his chin. It caught in Maria’s mouth when she opened it to scream, got stuck there when he cupped his palm down over her lips. He covered her mouth, jerked his arm, and she was gone, head hanging loosely on her neck. He brushed back his hair as he carried Maria’s body out of the apartment, dumping her out through the window and onto the fire escape.

            For such a big guy, he was surprisingly agile, quiet and stealthy as he snuck out of her apartment and onto the roof. He was all dark hair and muscles and big blue eyes, rimmed with black paint. The only thing that stuck out, the only thing that would’ve made him identifiable from the darkness was a flash of silver high up on his shoulder, stretching down over his arm all the way down to his fingers. Straightening on the roof, the Winter Soldier flexed his metal arm, slipping into the night he’d come from.

 

>>>>>> 

 

            “I don’t want to talk about it.” In the interrogation room, Robyn was pouting, crossing her arms over her chest and refusing to look at Bruce.

            “Doesn’t that mean you’re guilty?” Bruce bit his lip, looking back behind him to where the other Avengers were gathered. “Sorry, I’m no good at this kind of thing.”

            “It’s okay.” Robyn almost smiled at him, but she was frowning when she looked back through the window. “I just don’t want to talk about it.”

            “You can’t be serious.” Clint was looking at Bucky like he had three heads.

            “There’s no way I’m letting some girl call the shots around here.” Fury was even madder than Clint, pacing back and forth across the room and snapping at Bucky every chance he got.

            While Bruce questioned Robyn, the rest of the team was ganging up on Bucky, calling him out for his suggestion to acquiesce to Robyn’s demands.

            “I knew you were crazy, Barnes. But I didn’t think you were _that_ crazy.” Natasha shook her head, kicking her legs up on Stark’s coffee table. “I mean she’s just a kid, for Christ’s sake.”

            “She says she’s 24.” Bucky argued, crossing his arms over his chest. “She’s not much younger than you or me.”

            Natasha rolled her eyes. “First of all, you’re close to 100 years old, you big Russian moron. And second of all.” She looked back behind her shoulder to where Robyn was sitting in Stark’s interrogation room. “There’s no way she’s 24. Hell, I doubt she’s even legal.”

            “She’s all we got.” Bucky looked at her through narrowed eyes.     

            “I hate to agree with metal man here, but . . .” Sam stepped up beside Bucky, shrugging with an odd scowl on his face. “Right now, that girl’s our best chance of finding Steve.”

            Bucky scowled at Sam. “Don’t agree with me, it makes me uncomfortable.”

            Sam backed off, rolling his eyes.

            “I say we play along long enough to get our information out of her, then we lock her up until we get Steve back.” Stark was standing at the window, looking in on Robyn. He had installed a computer into the surface of the window and was currently searching the web, looking for any mention of a Robyn from upstate New York of otherwise. “I mean there’s no way we can trust her, right? We don’t even know who she is.”

            “Look, she’s smart.” Bucky looked past Stark to where Robyn was sitting, fiddling with the thin little camera screen she’d shown Bucky. “She’s gonna know if we’re playing her.”

            “She was your friend though, right?” Bruce was still trying to talk to Robyn, to draw some kind of information out of her that might let the Avengers know just who the hell she was. “Must have been hard for you when she died.”

            “We weren’t . . .” Robyn trailed off and looked away, biting down on her lower lip. “I mean, we were friends. But we weren’t . . . that close.”

            Bruce’s shoulders sunk. He leaned back in his seat, linking his fingers together and resting them in his lap. “That’s a lie.”

            Blood pooled in shiny red beads on Robyn’s lower lip and she turned away.

            “I still want to know what she was doing at Steve’s place.” Fury stopped pacing and stood at the window next to Tony, frowning at the girl and his own dark reflection. “And if he knew she was there.”

            “He must have,” Natasha said at the same time Bucky said, “He couldn’t have!”

            Natasha frowned at Bucky and stood up, walking in Fury’s direction. “Look, Steve’s not an idiot. He’s not big on subtly, but he’s not totally oblivious either. She was just around the corner from him. He had to of known she was there.”

            “I don’t think so.” Bucky shook his head, cupping his chin in his metal palm. “The way he was throwing those guys around . . . it was too reckless, too rash. If he had known Robyn was there, he might have played it safer to make sure she wasn’t hurt.”

            “You wanna tell me why you didn’t move in after Maria’s death?” Bruce was speaking again and Bucky stopped ranting to listen. “I mean the apartment was given to you. You didn’t have to pay for it or anything.”

            “It just,” she sighed heavily, forcing herself to meet Bruce’s eyes. “It didn’t feel right, okay. It wasn’t the same without her. Without Maria.”

            “Where did you go?”

            “Look, I don’t want –”

            “I know.” Bruce leaned forward and Bucky tensed, watching him reach out to the girl, patting her shoulder awkwardly. “I know you don’t want to talk about it. But I’m afraid you’re going to have to.”

            There was a moment of silence before Robyn sighed in defeat, taking her hands off the tabletop and sliding them into her lap. “Fine,” she breathed. “I drifted okay. And then, a couple months ago, I found someone to take me in.”

            “Who?” The room stood on edge as Bruce asked the question they’d all been wondering.

            For a minute it seemed like she was going to answer. She opened her mouth, drew in a breath to speak, but then as quickly as she’d opened up she deflated, falling back with the corner of her lips turned down in a frown.

            “Can’t say,” she said quietly, looking down at the tabletop and away from Bruce’s eyes.

            “And just why the hell not?” Fury asked, throwing his arms up. He seemed to have forgotten that she couldn’t hear him.

            “Look, it’s not important.” Bucky tried to redirect the conversation. “She has the information we need. If we don’t follow her rules, then we’re not going to get anywhere and Steve will stay wherever the hell he is until we listen to her.”

            “We have to test her.” Clint sat perched on the end of the couch Natasha had vacated, looking toward her and the girl in the interrogation room beyond. “Hold her to word. Make sure she’s good and not out to get us.”

            “And just how the hell are we going to do that?” Bucky asked, feeling the cold creep steadily up his neck. He was getting impatient. He wanted to save Steve already. All this banter was making him dizzy and it was giving _him_ more time and more opportunity to take control.

            He could hear his voice. Loud and tinny and filled with all the darkness of his soul, Bucky could hear the Winter Soldier crying out for him. STEVE, he screamed in a voice so bone-chilling, so cold and weary it scratched at his insides and dug around in what was left of his stone cold heart. The more Bucky ignored it, the louder it got. STEVE. NEED TO FIND. MUST SAVE. STEVE. It was a loud, agonizing cry, insistent and relentless and so goddamn annoying. But it was more than annoying, it was painful. It was dragging claws across Bucky’s chest, shredding him into little pieces of nothing.

Because what was he without Steve.

What was Bucky without his Steve?

Shaking his head, Bucky tried to dislodge the little voice, but it fought back. It held onto him with the sharp metal grip of the Winter Soldier, banging against the inside of his skull and screaming loud in his face.

“We need you.” That was what Natasha had said to him an hour ago, right after he’d lost it in front of everyone and thrown that poor girl across the room. “We need _you_ , not the Winter Soldier.”

And he tried to believe her, he really did. But the Winter Soldier was in his ear, screaming and yelling and raising hell like he could not believe.

“We can take her to Steve’s apartment.” Sam was standing behind Bucky, his arms folded over his chest. Tapping out a beat against the inside of his wrist, Bucky could see his fingers moving impatiently over the skin.

Apparently Bucky wasn’t the only one who wanted Steve back.

“It’s gotta look hellish.” Clint nodded. “I mean, they were being pretty rough with him in that video. But maybe there’s still something there that could tell us where Steve might be and where those HYDRA fuckheads came from.”

“What if they’re still there?” Bucky wasn’t too comfortable with the idea of walking Robyn straight into a firefight, even if he would be there standing beside her.

Clint shrugged. “If they shoot at her, then we’ll know which side she’s really on.”

Natasha turned from her place beside Fury and thwacked Clint upside the head.

“OW!” he cried. “Hey, Nat! What was that for?”

“She’s just a kid, dumbass.” Natasha was looking at Bucky when she spoke, not down at Clint. “We can’t endanger her like that.”

“Whatever.” Bucky shook his head, closing his eyes and grinding his fingers into his temples. The cold was growing, burning at his collarbone and up the back of his throat. “Whatever. I’ll take her. If those HYDRA bastards are still there, I’ll make sure to drop ‘em before they can lay a finger on her.”

“You sure that’s a good idea?” Natasha was looking at him too kindly. There was something in her eyes, something warm and knowing that made Bucky’s insides squirm uncomfortably.

Instead of answering, Bucky turned away and barged into the interrogation room, grabbing Robyn and hauling her up out of her seat.

“You’re coming with me,” he said with a voice as cold as ice.

 

>>>>>>> 

 

            Thirty New York minutes later, the two were at the door of Steve’s apartment building, a nice little brownstone in Brooklyn, close to where Bucky and Steve used to live all those years ago.

            “You okay?” Robyn’s voice was gentle, but it still startled Bucky a little. He turned to her sharply and she shrank away, swallowing nervously.

Bucky had almost forgotten she was there. She’d been silent the whole ride there watching Bucky carefully out of the corner of her eyes when she thought he wasn’t looking. Bucky had a phone on him – a thin little thing that resembled the camera Robyn had shown him earlier – courtesy of Stark Industries, but he left it on silent and refused to answer any of the texts Natasha sent him.

“Yeah.” Bucky closed his eyes, feeling the Winter Soldier pound against the inside of his eyelids. “Sorry about earlier,” he said after a moment, clearing his throat and staring straight ahead of him. “About dragging you away like that.”

“It’s okay.” Robyn waved him off, but Bucky knew she was a little less than comfortable with how he’d manhandled her. “You seem pretty stressed.”

Bucky snorted. “Nice choice of words.”

Robyn shrugged and Bucky found himself watching her closely. He took note of the way she curled her hair around one finger and how she cast her eyes about nervously, taking in as much as the street view as she could. He watched as she rocked back and forth on her heels, a little nervousness in her breath and in her eyes, but also a solid feeling of safety and security.

“I grew up around here.” Bucky didn’t mean to say the words, they just kind of spilled out of his mouth, unbidden.

Even if he hadn’t wanted to say them, Bucky was immediately glad he did. Robyn awarded him with a bright smile that played around her lips and in the shining corners of her eyes.

“My dad was born here,” she said, looking up and down the street. “That doesn’t mean much I guess, but . . .” she trailed off and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “It’s something we’ve got in common, I guess.”

She stepped ahead of him before Bucky could continue the conversation. They’d been leaning against a lamppost outside of Steve’s apartment, surveying it from the outside before they tried their luck inside. Bucky was dressed in a dark hoodie, metal arm tucked into the sleeve and then hooked back into his pocket. He hadn’t meant to start a conversation, hadn’t even meant to wait this long before going inside. But something inside of Bucky was softening around the girl, becoming fond and warm and sweet.

_I barely know this kid_ , he thought, shaking his head and straightening. _I can’t get soft. Not while Steve’s in danger._

He caught up to her quickly, catching her arm as she reached to knock on the front door of the timid little brownstone. “Let me do the talking,” he whispered quietly, letting go of her arm and ringing the doorbell with his metal finger.

That turned out to be a terrible, _terrible_ idea. Bucky used to be good with words. He knew this. He’d read all about him, about the old Bucky and the moves he had pulled on dames, and fellas, of all ages. But when the door opened and Bucky found himself staring at a nice elderly man instead of a pretty dame, he found his brain had betrayed him.

“Uhhhhhh,” he breathed into the silence after the old man had greeted them.

“I locked my key in Steve’s apartment yesterday.” Robyn smiled kindly, sliding in front of Bucky with her hand on the old man’s arm.

“Oh, hey, Robyn, honey. Didn’t see you there!” The old man greeted her warmly, guiding her inside to the brightly lit foyer with steps leading up to the dual level brownstone. “These glasses!” he laughed, rubbing at a thick pair of spectacles perched on the bridge of his nose. “Can’t see a damn thing anymore!”

“That’s nice, Mr. Levi.” Robyn smiled with a voice as smooth as honey. “Would you mind opening up Steve’s apartment? I swear, the next time I leave them in there Steve’s gonna have my ass.”

“Sure thing, Robyn. Are you finally moving back into your apartment?” Mr. Levi smiled at her, walking back to his door and fumbling with the handle. “Or are you going to hang out at Steve’s a little bit longer?”

Bucky’s eyes widened and he looked back and forth between the old man and Robyn’s back.

She shrugged lightly, as if she wasn’t aware of Bucky’s gaze trying to burn a hole between her shoulder blades. “I don’t know yet. I don’t know if I can go back to it, yet . . .” she trailed off sadly, looking up the stairs to the second floor landing.

“Well you haven’t gone far, honey.” The old man finally opened the door to his apartment and stepped inside, reaching for something on a table right beside the door. “You’re just one floor away. . .”

Before he knew what he was doing, Bucky had stepped up behind Robyn’s shoulder, resting his hand protectively on the small of her back. His soldier’s mind, the part of him that still harbored the deadly Winter Soldier, was running through a hundred thousand possibilities of what the old man could be reaching for inside his door.

“I know, but Steve takes care of me.” Robyn crossed her arms around her middle, ignoring Bucky ominous angry presence. “He understands everything I’ve been through.”

“Sure, sure.” Mr. Levi nodded, stepping back out of his apartment.

Bucky relaxed a fraction when he saw a chain of keys, not a shotgun, in Mr. Levi’s fist, and stepped back from Robyn’s back.

“Now who’s this?” Mr. Levi squinted at Bucky, fiddling with his glasses with the hand not holding the keychain. “Never seen him before.”

“Oh, um, this is my _friend_.” Robyn’s voice hitched around the word friend and Bucky almost closed his eyes in exasperation. _Way to blow our cover_ , he thought as he stepped forward, holding his flesh and blood arm out for the old man to shake. “James Barnes.”

“Barnes.” The old man’s eyes twinkled. “That’s quite a name. Carries a lot of history in these parts.”

Bucky thanked whatever gods above that he’d left his hair long and hadn’t shaved that morning; he looked nothing like that old picture the Smithsonian Museum had of him, blown up and framed on the wall right next to Steve’s.

“So I’ve heard,” Bucky smiled tightly, shaking the man’s hand with a tight grip.

“You a friend of Steve’s?” the man asked as he slid by them, heading up the stairs towards the third floor landing.

“Yes, sir.” Bucky smiled kindly, stepping easily between the old man and Robyn. When she shot him a look, he just shook his head, tipping his chin up and taking the stairs one at a time. “I’ve known him my whole life.”

“That’s nice, that’s nice.” Mr. Levi nodded, pausing at the second floor landing. “You want me to open this up while you’re here, Robyn? I could go get your key while you wait down here . . .?”

“No, it’s okay.” Robyn said quickly, stepping up to Bucky’s back like she wanted to push past him and move on already. “I’ll just get my key from Steve’s and wait for him. The three of us are going out to dinner later.”

“I haven’t heard him leave today.” Mr. Levi continued up the stairs slowly, gripping the handrail with one withered old hand. “Is he alright?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Robyn forced a laugh, rubbing the back of her neck with one hand. “You know how he is. I’m sure he was up way before any of us, out running around and such.”

“Well, I don’t know about that,” Mr. Levi said as they made it to the third floor. “He had a couple friends over last night. Made quite the racket, I have to tell you.”

“Yeah, I heard.” Robyn’s face was tight when Bucky turned back to look at her. “The apartment was a mess when I got back.”

“How was your appointment, dear?” Mr. Levi paused with the key in the door, resting his hand on the doorknob and turning to Robyn with kind, questioning eyes. “Silly me, I totally forgot. Did you make any headway with your therapist? Are you any closer to finding out who –?”

“No, no.” Robyn cut him off, reaching around Bucky to turn the knob. She shuffled Mr. Levi out of the way, stepping into the dark apartment and sliding his key out of the lock. “It’s okay, though. I see her again next week.” She smiled tightly, closing the door around her body so none of the hallway light could shine into the apartment. “Well, thanks again, Mr. Levi! You’re such a great landlord.”

“Oh, pooh.” The old man grinned, winking at her. “Call me anytime you need me!” He didn’t seem to find Robyn’s quick brush off strange at all, and turned waving to her as he headed back down the stairs. “Bye bye, Robyn! Mr. Barnes!”

Bucky waited until he heard the click of the first floor door shutting. Then he turned and pushed Robyn inside the doorway, stepping inside after her and slamming the door behind himself.  

“Hey!” she cried, stumbling back a little from the force of Bucky’s push. “Watch it!” There was a squish and Bucky listened to Robyn squealing. “Ew! What the hell did I just step in?”

“You live with Steve?” Bucky growled, fumbling around in the darkness for some sort of light switch. He still wasn’t used to this whole technology thing, but he had to admit it sure was handy. Being able to flip on a switch and light up a whole dark room . . . _that_ sure was nice.

“Did I not mention that?” The light came on just as Robyn was picking herself up off the floor, straightening and brushing some invisible specks of dust off her shirt. “I –”

Her sentence ended in a gasp when she saw what exactly she’d stepped in.

“Oh shit,” she breathed, backing into Bucky as he stood by the doorway. “Oh holy fucking shit.”

“Don’t look,” Bucky said, but it was already too late.

Three dead bodies, three _fresh_ dead bodies, lay across the room folded around corners and crumpled on blood-stained kitchen chairs.

“These were not here yesterday.” Robyn spoke through the fingers she’d folded over her mouth, clamping them down hard around the skin to try and stop their shaking. “Oh my God, they were _not_ here yesterday so _what the hell_ are they doing here now?!”

“I don’t know.” Bucky shook his head, resting his hand on her shoulder. “Just calm down. And for God’s sake don’t scream.”

“I’m not gonna . . .” Her voice was awfully shaky though and Bucky had to tighten his grip on her arm. “I swear, I’m not . . .”

“These are HYDRA uniforms.” Bucky knelt beside one body, letting go of Robyn’s shoulder. He tapped his finger against the insignia sown into corner of the collar. “They’d already nabbed Steve, so what they hell were they doing here?”

“Oh God.” Robyn was shaking her head, back flat against the door. “Oh dear God.” Her knees caved and she slid down the door, sitting at the bottom with her palms pressed over her lips.

Bucky looked her way. “Don’t freak out,” he said sharply.

She shook her head, eyes wide and so incredibly blue. “I’m not freaking out. I’m not. Are you freaking out? I’m not freaking out.”

“Oh God.” Bucky shook his head. “What am I going to do with you?”

The phone in his pocket beeped and Bucky sighed pulling it out and holding it to his ear. “Yeah?”

“What’s it look like over there?” Natasha’s voice. Bucky sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, standing up and looking at Robyn with tired blue eyes.

“We’ve got three dead HYDRA agents bleeding on Steve’s floor but other than that . . .” He trailed off, looking around the messy room. “Steve definitely put up a fight that much is certain.”

“Would you expect anything else?” Natasha said grimly.

The apartment began in the kitchen and Bucky followed the trail of broken glass, crushed wood, and bullet shells up into Steve’s living room where the couch stood, disemboweled and bleeding thick white cotton. Even Steve’s TV was shot up, a fresh flat screen that would have made Bucky jealous if he knew how to work it.

“But what I don’t get is the bodies.” Bucky moved back to the kitchen, nudging one of the HYDRA agents in the side with his boot. “I mean, if HYDRA really got to Steve then what were these guys doing hanging back around his apartment?”

“And more importantly, who was there to shoot at them?” The hairs on the back of Bucky’s neck stood at attention.

“We’re getting out of here.” Bucky moved to stand beside Robyn, scanning the room with his cold soldier eyes. “Meet you back at the tower in ten.”

“Sam’s been flying around the city since you two left. Said there’s been some activity around a known HYDRA base just to the south of you.” Bucky could hear the click of Natasha’s fingers flying over a keyboard in the background of their conversation. “The gang’s heading out right now to give it a look. You in?”

Bucky looked down at Robyn. She was still sitting on the floor, knees tucked up into her chest, but she seemed calmer. Her face wasn’t as green, her eyes not as wide. Still, she’d freaked out over a couple of dead bodies; Bucky wondered what her reaction would have been if she had been there to watch those men die.

“Bruce and Fury stayed behind if you’re worried about the girl.” Natasha answered his unspoken question. “And Thor’s coming from wherever the hell he’s been hanging out lately. He should be at the tower soon.”

Bucky held the phone away from his ear and bent, kneeling so he was down on Robyn’s level.

“Hey,” he said softly, drawing her attention away from the dead bodies and onto him. “Look at me.”

“Hmmm?” She had trouble looking at him at first, but once she found his eyes she didn’t once look away.

“Whatever shit you’ve got going on with Steve you’re going to tell me later, okay?” His tone was soft, but the cold brewing in his stomach made the words an order she couldn’t refuse. “We’re going to head down to knock some hydra heads right now, try and figure out where the hell they’ve stashed Steve. You in?”

Robyn blinked. It took her a little longer than Bucky would’ve hope for her to answer, but it was enough.

“Hell yes.”

 

* * *

Okay the vamp!bucky thing starts now 

 

Inspired by the popular vampire text post floating around

Vamp!bucky and human!steve

They’ve had a fight over Bucky turning Steve

 

            “I could hold you down and do it, you know.” Bucky’s voice is deceptively soft in the darkness around them.

            He can feel Steve stiffening beside him, growing cold and trying to scoot away from Bucky’s teasing touch.

            “It’d be fairly easy too.” Bucky doesn’t let the overgrown hunk of muscle scoot away. He has an arm around his waist and a hand in his hair, tousling the soft blonde curls against his fingers. He tilts Steve’s head with a light flick of his wrist, turning his head to face the darkened wall. “Barely a pinprick . . .” He lets his voice trail off into silence.

            He may be teasing, but there’s a thread of truth running through his words. He’s wanted to do it for a while now. Turning Steve would be . . . ecstasy. He would have everything he’d ever wanted, tied up in a neat little package that would be his forever. Screw that arrogant hunter Tony and Mr. Goody-two-shoes-the-bunny-eater Thor. Bucky had been wanting to take that hunter down a notch anyway. Turning Steve would be like a slap in his face. His little pet project, turned into the creatures he hated the most. The thought alone made his toes curl in pleasure.

            But more than Thor, and Tony, and Bucky’s petty rivalry with the two, was his love for Steve. Whenever he looked at Steve, whenever he saw him getting up with a head full of lanky blonde curls, or laid out in front of him all needy and wanting, or even just walking around the apartment giving Bucky that genuine smile that made him feel loved, made him feel wanted, and handsome, and _whole_ . . . it made his cold dead heart ache.

            “Bucky,” Steve’s voice, tight and strained brought him back to reality. “Let go.”

            “Oh, but why . . .?” His lips turned up in a devilish grin. He released Steve’s waist to climb on top of him, pinning Steve beneath him with his arms caught up above his head. He let his legs fall, hips straddling Steve’s, keeping him down and locked in place. “We were just starting to have fun . . .” he whispered into Steve’s neck, lowering himself until he was lying flush with the blonde man, cold dead chest pressed right up against the living, breathing one.

            Steve’s breathe quickened. Bucky grinned, listening to his heart thumping louder and louder in his chest.

            “Oooh.” He moved from Steve’s neck to his chest, pressing his heart just above his heart. “Here that?” He lifted his head to meet Steve’s eyes, blue eyes flashing predatorily in the near darkness. “Sounds like someone’s excited.”

            “Hey!” Steve squirmed around beneath him as Bucky let his wrists go before he caught them back up in one hand. “Bucky! Bucky, stop!”

            “No.” Bucky pouted into the curve of Steve’s neck, using his free hand to turn Steve’s head to the side. “Don’t wanna.”

            “Bucky . . .” Steve’s breathing was deliciously uneven as Bucky pressed a kiss into the side of his mouth, drawing his lips lower and lower until they were resting above the jiggling pulse dancing at Steve’s neck.

            Bucky drew his tongue across it, letting his lips rest on the flushed skin. “What?” he whispered, blowing very softly onto Steve’s neck.

            “Stop.” His voice was more of a plea than a command. His voice was so weak and thin; it was nothing like the Steve Bucky was used to. “Please.”

            “And if I don’t?” His fangs were out. Very carefully he drew them down onto Steve’s skin, letting him feel their sharpness without actually puncturing the skin.

            “Please.” Steve’s whole body tightened beneath him. His voice cracked – it actually cracked – and Bucky eased off, lust and desire melting into concern for his human boyfriend. “Oh God. This is _not_ how I want it. Please, just . . .”

            “What?” Bucky eased up, still hovering on all fours above Steve. “This is not how you want what?”

            Steve didn’t say anything, he just shook his head, pulse still flashing rapidly at his throat. Slowly, Bucky peeled himself off Steve, watching him with concern, hollowed eyes.

            _I think I pushed him too far_ , he thought to himself, feeling strangely guilty, an emotion that did not sit well with his vampire heart. _Oh shit._

            The moment he was released Steve fled, jumping out of the bed and running out of the room.

            “Steve?” Bucky called, chasing after him. “Steve, hey!”

            But he was already out the door. Bucky stood at the threshold and watched him run down the sidewalk toward the Stark Tower. He’d managed to pull a jacket on other his lanky sweats and tight white t-shirt, but even then he was hardly decent. Bucky let himself feel a flash of jealously at the thought of anyone but him getting to see Steve all early-morning disordered.

            He left for his own apartment, safely underground away from the sun’s rays. When he woke the sun was safely behind the New York City skyline and Bucky thought it safe to try his luck with Steve.

            He prepared an apology speech as he walked over to Steve’s, weaving in and out of the people hurrying by. He thought about finding a meal to calm his rattling nerves, but he _so_ did not want to show up to Steve’s with blood on his mouth. It’d been a while since he’d truly drained someone and Bucky’s willpower was fading. What he really wanted was a sip of Steve, but he wasn’t sure just what kind of reaction he was going to get when he crawled into Steve’s apartment.

            When he got to the door he found it locked. Scowling at the door, he tried the doorbell several times, waiting for an answer to no avail. He checked under the little welcome mat, in the potted plant beside the doorway, beside the little bowl of milk Steve always left out for the strays, searching for any kind of spare key.

            When he didn’t find it, Bucky sat down on the threshold, crossing his arms over his chest and tucking his knees up into his chest. Maybe Steve wasn’t home. He was probably working late. That was okay, Bucky would wait for him. He had an epic apology to make after all. He could wait a little longer to make it.

Minutes passed. Bucky pouted into his jeans and hissed at anyone who came too close, grumbling to himself. _I am a creature of the night, dammit,_ he thought. _I am a badass blood drinker, not one of those stray cats that come sniffing at his door._

After twenty minutes, Bucky stood, deciding to find his own way in. He went around back and climbed onto the fire escape, glad to see that Steve had left his back window open.

_Dumbass_ , he thought, as he climbed. _Always a weak point with this one._

While Bucky may have thought he was being a super clever stealth vampire, in actuality he was walking straight into Steve’s trap.

“Ow!” he cried, tumbling out of the window and onto Steve’s bed. “Shit!” Something burned at his side and he straightened, searching with his hands in the darkness to find whatever was stinging him. “Oh, holy –!”

At the same time the window shut behind him, the light flicked on in front of him and Bucky saw Steve smiling from an armchair, lit with warm lamplight.

“What the hell is this?” Bucky glared at Steve, looking around the bed cautiously. “Did you . . . is this _silver_?”

Steve’s smile grew. “Yep.”

Bucky’s eyes widened, his mouth fell open. “What?”

The whole bed was ringed in the stuff. Silver necklaces, forks, spoons, and beads of all different sizes were strung up around the bed, surrounding Bucky in a little cage of silver. Even the window had a silver lining on it, trapping Bucky from the inside.

“Very funny.” Bucky glared at Steve, gesturing at all the silver. “Nice prank, punk.”

“Took all the silver I had to make that.” Steve slid one hand in his front pocket, rubbing the back of his neck with his other hand. “I’m very proud.”

“I’m gonna kill you.” Bucky tried to move forward, but jerked back when his hand hit the silver cage. “God!” His hand burned and he held it to his chest, narrowing his eyes in Steve’s direction. “Yep. Definitely gonna kill you.”

Steve was wearing his best shit-eating grin. “Is this before or after you turn me?”

Any other day, Bucky would have laughed.

“Not funny, punk.”

“I think it’s very funny.”

“Drop it.”

“Nope.”

“Take this shit off.”

“Nu uh.”

“Steve.”

“Bucky.”

“Steve, I swear to God.”

“Bucky, I swear to Jesus.”

Steve was standing at the door, wiping a hand down his jaw to try and hide his smile.

“You think I’m kidding.” Bucky was poking at the little line of silver with his finger, looking for any kind of weak spot. “Ow! Dammit, Steve.”

“This.” Steve gestured to Bucky and the bed. “This is payback.”

“Payback? OW!” Bucky stuck his burning finger in his mouth, glaring at Steve with every square inch of vampirific anger he had. “Payback for what!?”

Steve moved closer, bending so he was at Bucky’s eyelevel. “I’m only gonna say this once so you better listen closely, jerk.” Bucky’s eyes narrowed but he kept his mouth shut, listening to what Steve had to say. “I love you and I’m gonna let you turn me.”

Bucky’s heart dropped into his shoes. For something that had stopped beating a long fucking time ago, Bucky was surprised at how much pain it was giving him lately.

“You’re what?” His lips parted in surprise. All anger melted off of him, replaced by such a consuming, burning joy that it made him want to reach out and pull Steve into his arms.

“But only when I say so.” Steve looked down. “You scared the shit out of me last night.”

Bucky nodded his head with a roll of his eyes. “Glad I can still do that considering I’m a motherfucking vampire.”

“Shut up.” Steve leaned even closer so Bucky could see the beat fluttering wildly at his throat, the moisture in his eyes and on his lips, and the all-consuming beauty of his human face. “You sit here,” he said, looking at the cage circling Bucky. “And think about what you did.”

He stood and Bucky could feel the heat of him leaving, drifting further and further out of his reach.

“And when you come back you’ll let me turn you?” Bucky hadn’t let himself hope for a long time, hadn’t let himself believe that salvation would come. But come it had. Condensed in the form of one tall blonde human with the prettiest blue eyes and lips redder than blood.

“We’ll see.” Steve stood and started to walk away.

“So what?” Bucky leaned forward on the bed, trying to follow him with his eyes. “You’re just going to leave me here? Where are you going to go?”

“Stark’s invited me over.” Steve paused at the doorway. “Thor’s gonna be there too.”

Bucky could feel his fangs pressing into his lower lip. “Don’t go,” he growled.

Steve shook his head, a small smile curling his lips up. “Yeah. They’re probably going to spend the whole night telling me how crazy I am, but I . . .” He trailed off and looked back at Bucky. “I don’t care.”

At the same time Bucky’s veins lit up with anger, his heart bloomed at least three times it usual size.

“Steve?” Bucky tried calling after him, reaching out to him with a voice made weak with longing. “Steve? Oh come on, Steve! You’re serious, aren’t you? Steve. Steve!”

Bucky flopped back onto the bed when he heard the door close, punching his fists into the barrier of silver that kept him trapped in Steve’s empty bed.

“Thank God for technology,” he muttered to himself after a few minutes of moping. He pulled out his phone and dialed the first name he found, the first name he trusted. “Hey, Nat, it’s me.”

Two hours later Bucky could hear her coming in. He listened as she picked the lock to Steve’s apartment and crept in with her usual stealth, grinning when she found Bucky lying upside down with on Steve’s bed, poking at the silver barrier with one burnt finger.

“Thank God!” he groaned, sitting up when he saw Natasha. “Took you long enough.”

“You damn moron!” she laughed in Russian, going into Steve’s kitchen for a pair of oven mitts. “Oh God, this is priceless.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Bucky grumbled as she slowly dismantled Bucky’s cage, pulling it apart with care and bending each piece of silver far beyond recognition. “Toss all the shit out the window, would ya?”

“Oh man, you’re so whipped.” She laughed so loudly he feared she would wake the neighbors, tossing the silver pieces out the window with a casual flick of her wrist. “So fucking whipped.”

“Shut up.” Bucky knocked her shoulder, pushing her out the apartment the way she’d come.

But it was true. God, it was so true.

Bucky took his time dismantling Steve’s apartment. Every piece of silver he found he tossed at the window, aiming for the other side of the fucking city. He blacked out Steve’s windows while the sun was down, taping black paper against the glass, shutting the blinds, and pulling the curtains shut over that. He even pushed furniture against the bigger windows, scowling at the door to Steve’s apartment like it was him.

When he was finished, he sat down in the same chair Steve had ambushed him from, grinning with his arms crossed over his chest.

It was around noon when Steve came home. Bucky listened to him clang around the darkened kitchen, not bothering to turn on the lights or undo the blinds. He obviously thought he was safe by the way he was humming to himself, carrying on with carefree abandon. He heard him moving towards the bedroom and grinned, getting ready to pounce.

Steve pushed the door open with a big smug grin turning his lips up. When he found the bed empty of both silver and Bucky his smile quickly dropped into a rather frightened little frown. Bucky let himself enjoy that look of scared surprise before he leaped from his chair.

He had Steve pinned beneath him before the fucker knew what had hit him. He brushed his body against every line of Steve’s, feeling him tense under Bucky’s hard grip

“Shit,” he breathed, face right beneath Bucky’s.

“Hmm.” Bucky laughed in a whisper, bending his face to trace his nose over Steve’s eyelids. “Shit indeed.”

As he traced his nose lower and lower, Bucky became aware of a slight burning sensation in the tip of his nose. Pulling back, he frowned when he saw something glinting in the dim light.

“What the hell?” Bucky reached for the light and flicked it open, gasping when he saw the round silver ball hanging from the end of Steve’s eyebrow. “Oh for fuck’s sake!” he cried jumping off him.

Steve burst out laughing, still lying on the ground where Bucky had left him. His hand went to his heart and he curled himself inward, still laughing.

“Jesus.” Bucky shook his head. “You’re one crazy kid, Rogers.”

“You think I’m dumb?” Steve propped himself up onto his elbows, still laughing lightly. “I knew you’d call Natasha in to get you out.”

“So you decided to shoot your face up with a bunch of silver balls?” Bucky sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, thinking – not for the last time – whether this damn human was worth all the effort Bucky was putting into getting him (the answer was, of course, an undeniably fuck yes that Bucky only fully realized after he turned Steve).

“You like them?” Steve grinned, running his tongue over the silver ring hooked around his lip.

He had about 13 piercings in total. Three on each ear, one for each eyebrow, two lip piercings, two just below his lip, one just under his left ear (Bucky’s preferred side), one under his jaw, and two lower down on his neck, beside his collarbone. They fit nicely into the curve of his shoulder and throat and Bucky had to admit that even though he wasn’t happy with the choice of material, Steve looked hot.

In addition to the piercings, Bucky saw silver necklaces glinting at his neckline, winking in and out of his shirt. His eyes went skyward when Steve stuck out his tongue and Bucky saw one big ball resting in the middle of all that flesh.

“You’re dead meat, Steve-o.” Bucky grinned, pointing at Steve from across the room. “The minute you take this off I’m going to fuck you senseless and they’ll be nothing you can do to stop me.”

“You sure you don’t wanna have a go right now?” Steve’s smile was pure evil. Not for the first time, Bucky saw the potential for a great vampire hiding beneath all that good guy, sparkly rainbow marshmallow fluff.

Bucky chucked a pillow at his glittering head. “Fuck you.”

Steve’s laugh was so sinful it hurt Bucky to listen. He followed Steve with his eyes as he went walked around the apartment, grinning from ear-to-ear.

They went on like that for a few weeks. Slowly, Bucky forgot what it was like to taste Steve, to feel him begging and crying for pleasure beneath him. Although he loved Steve, really did as much as his vampire side hated to admit, he was losing his patience.

“You’ve got all eternity,” Steve reminded him one night after Bucky had tried to coax Steve into taking out just a few of the piercings. “Surely you can wait a few more days.”

“I can’t.” Bucky let his fangs scrap against the inside of Steve’s wrist, the only part of him that didn’t seem to be riddled with silver. “I need you, Steve.” He found Steve’s gaze and looked him dead in the eye as he sunk his fangs into the skin, sipping at the blood that flowed rich and healthy beneath the surface. “I really do.”

Slowly, Steve succumbed to the pleasure of Bucky’s bite. Holding him tightly, Bucky licked at his skin, drawing a little more blood than probably necessary from Steve’s pulsing vein. He let go only when Steve promised to take out some piercings, sitting back and watching Steve writhe with pleasure beneath him.

The next day, his eyebrow piercings were gone and so were the two under his lips.

Bucky only felt a little bad about seducing the piercings out of Steve. He got as close to Steve as he could handle and when he had successfully riled him up, bit deep into his skin and dragged the words out of him.

“I’ll take them off.” Steve panted as Bucky let go of his wrist, moving up to his bare neck to play with the skin there.

“Promise.” Bucky kissed the skin slowly, deliciously enjoying the shudders that rocked down over Steve’s shoulders.

“Promise.”

The lip rings were the last to come out. Bucky pulled those out himself, watching Steve carefully and smiling when he nodded in agreement. He kissed the blood from his lips and finally gave Steve what he wanted, the pleasure he’d kept at bay all those nights he’d been plugged up with silver.

“What did I say?” he said after they were done, fingers sifting through Steve’s soft blonde hair.

“Nothing,” Steve grumbled, pressing his lips into the curve of Bucky’s collarbone.

“Umm, I totally said something. Hmmm, what did I say?” Bucky pretended to think, grinning when he felt Steve shifting uncomfortably beside him. “Oh that’s right . . .” Bucky was so fucking proud of himself, he couldn’t help but draw the moment out a little. “I said I would fuck you senseless, didn’t I?”

“Shut up.” There was a smile in Steve’s voice, Bucky could hear it.

“And did I?” Bucky looked down at Steve, curling one flat lock around his finger. “Well?” he grinned when Steve didn’t answer, jostling him softly against his side. “Did I?”

“Jerk,” Steve breathed into Bucky’s collarbone.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Bucky smiled.

Steve moved so his chin was resting on Bucky’s shoulder, his lips not far from his ear. “Give me a year,” he whispered, drawing Bucky closer to his side. “Let me finish art school. Then you can change me.”

Bucky turned onto his side so he was looking at Steve, eyes burning brightly in the near-darkness. “Are you sure?” he asked, reaching out to stroke the side of Steve’s face. “I don’t want you to rush into this.”

Steve smiled, lacing his fingers with Bucky’s. “Liar.”

Bucky shrugged, trying really hard not to grin. “Yeah, but you wanted to hear me say that.”

“I did.” Bucky held out his arms and Steve pulled himself into them, nestling so his head was pressing against Bucky’s cold lifeless chest. “So thank you.”

“Punk.” Bucky kissed his hairline, tracing a ghostly line with his fangs over the top of Steve’s head.

“Jerk.” Steve breathed, falling asleep in the circle of Bucky’s arms.

It was odd sure. Steve was a little taller than him, so Bucky had to hold him differently than he would a regular person. It was also kind of weird just to hold him. Bucky knew, deep down in his stone cold heart, that he was the enemy. That his being was, at its very nature, the predator and Steve was his prey. And yet, Steve could fall asleep beside him. Had done so for almost a year now.

It was dangerous and stupid and so incredibly _Steve_.

With a lingering smile, Bucky pressed one more kiss to his forehead and dropped into asleep with Steve in his arms.


	4. Baby Bird's First Firefight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> lol can you guess what this is about? When Bucky and Robyn go to check out a HYDRA weapon's warehouse, they find more than they were bargaining for. They also learn that HYDRA did not kidnap Steve. So if they didn't, the question remains . . . who did?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's intense. If some of you guys are wondering where the heck is Steve, don't worry I'm getting to him. This story will (probably) be entirely in Bucky's POV but I might throw in some Steve occasionally (ie next chapter) and maybe even some Robyn if you get lucky. So does anything think they might know who Robyn is to Bucky? Anyone . . . anyone . . . Bueller . . . Bueller? If you think you've got it message me, I dare you to guess! Enjoy!

Baby Bird's First Firefight

“What the hell is that?”

Bucky slid Robyn a glance, one hand on the wheel, the other held out towards her. He looked down at the black object between his fingers and blinked, shaking it in her direction.

“It’s a gun,” he said simply, holding it out to her. “Take it.”

Robyn shook her head furiously.

Bucky’s eyes narrowed. “Take it.”

“No way.” Robyn was breathless, staring at the gun like it might jump up and attack her. “I-I don’t even know how to use one of those things.”

“It’s simple.” Bucky shrugged, turning a corner sharply and throwing Robyn against the passenger’s door. “Point and shoot.” He looked back at her.

“No,” Robyn shook her head again, linking her fingers together in her lap. “I’m not . . . what I mean is – I, uh, I don’t want to kill anyone.”

“No.” Bucky looked down at the gun and back at her. “Well, neither did I.”

He stopped at a light and turned to her, holding the gun out in his open palm. She looked between him and it, eyes wide and fearful.

“Take it,” he said again, pressing it forward. “Take it, knowing you may need to use it, but hoping you won’t have to.”

And so she did. Her hands shook as she closed them around the small black pistol, locking it and holding it down far away from her body.

Bucky nodded and rocketed forward. He turned another sharp corner and Robyn was thrown forward, seatbelt cutting into her collarbone. The conversation died there and Bucky let her think on his words the rest of the ride to the warehouse.

>>>>>>>>> 

“Bout time you showed up,” Sam shouted, jumping off the warehouse roof when Bucky pulled up. He threw the car into park and launched himself out of the door, gun already up, locked, and loaded. “Whoa easy, tiger.” Sam jerked his thumb back towards the warehouse entrance. “Enemy’s back there.”

“What’s going on?” Bucky’s eyes narrowed at the thin metal building, lit up from the inside with shaky flashlight beams.

“We got a hit on some activity in the area. Nat found one agent and tied him up inside.”

Bucky nodded, lowering his gun a fraction. “See anybody else?”

Sam shook his head, casting an eye around the darkened field surrounding the warehouse. “Not so far. But the dead man walking back there is telling us there will be more.”

Bucky grinned a little, shaking his head. “‘Course he is.”

Sam nodded. “Exactly.” Then his gaze shifted and fell on Robyn, standing at Bucky’s side with the gun held loosely at her side. She was pointing it down at the ground – thank God – but she was holding it too far out away from her side. If the time came when she needed to use it, Bucky knew there was no way she would get her arm up in time. She’d be full of metal before she’d raised the gun to shoulder height. He made a mental note to keep an eye on her and make sure she stayed out of the line of fire.

“This is no place for a little girl.” Sam frowned, looking at Bucky rather than Robyn.

Robyn tipped her chin up, eyes narrowing in Sam’s direction. “I thought you wanted my help.”

“I did.” Sam shook his head sharply. “I do. But I don’t want you getting hurt, kid.”

“I have a name.” She snapped, pushing past Bucky and Sam and into the warehouse. “Use it.”

Sam followed her walk with wide eyes, blinking back at Bucky in shock. “Damn,” he whistled.

Bucky almost smiled. “She’s got quite a mouth.” He nodded and the two of them followed her into the warehouse.

It looked exactly like what you might think a warehouse should look like. The floor was concrete and open, extending from one side of the building to the other with a wide open-floor plan. There were several big stacks of standard issue crates scattered across the floor – perfect height for crouching behind and staying out of fire, Bucky noted. There were also a few big pieces of machinery lying around, forklifts and that kind of thing.

Not far from the entryway Bucky saw Natasha hovering over a tied up HYDRA agent, holding him down with a heel pressed into his chest. He followed Robyn over there, giving the warehouse one quick sweep.

“I’m going to keep a look out,” Sam said and Bucky nodded. He stepped back towards the door and let his wings expand, filling the wide doorway and sending a puff of air back into Bucky’s face. “Holler if you need anything,” he said before taking off.

Bucky shut the door behind him and stepped up beside Robyn, watching the way her shoulders tensed.

“So what’s that you were saying?” Natasha stepped back, giving the agent one swift kick to the gut for good measure. “Something about Steve . . .?”

“I told you.” The agent coughed, lips stained red with his own blood. “I don’t know anything about it.”

“Yeah, and you guys are _so_ reliable.” Natasha’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

“I’m telling you, it’s not us.” The agent struggled to sit up and Bucky tensed a little, resting an arm protectively on Robyn’s shoulders. “We didn’t kidnap Captain Rogers.”

“Yeah, right.” Natasha scowled.

“Nat, I think he’s telling the truth.” Clint was behind her, coaxing her back away from the agent with a hand on her arm. “Look at him. He’s not exactly a pawn. He looks like he might be access to some high level information.”

Bucky looked.

Clint was right, he clearly wasn’t some dummy to manipulated and thrown away. He was wearing an expensive suit with the HYDRA logo emblazoned on the collar. There was also some high tech equipment on the floor behind him, presumably confiscated by Natasha after she’d tied him up.

“Something’s not right.” Tony lifted the face plate of his suit, turning to Bucky with a heavy frown. “He’s not lying. He really doesn’t know anything.”

Bucky’s scowl deepened. Robyn looked up at him, confusion written along the line of her folded brows.

“I’m telling you we didn’t –” The agent coughed, looking away from Natasha. His voice died when he spotted Robyn, eyes widening until Bucky could see the bloodshot veins crisscrossing through them. “You!” he gasped. “It’s you!”

Robyn’s eyes widened and she shifted backwards, blinking rapidly. “Me?” she asked, shaking her head in disbelief.

Bucky’s arm tightened around her shoulders. His eyes narrowed and he cast a look around the empty warehouse, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling to attention.

“HYDRA we have a code eleven sighting on the Robin,” the agent shouted, shifting his head back towards the mound of equipment gathering dust behind him. “The Robin has been spotted. I repeat, the Robin has been spotted!” he shouted.

“Natasha!” Bucky yelled, pulling Robyn into his side with the arm around her shoulder.

Nat flung herself onto the screaming agent, wrestling him into silence while Clint rushed over to the pile of equipment, stomping on and destroying all important-looking pieces.

“What’s going on?” Robyn’s voice was frantic as she looked up at Bucky, trying to pull herself out of his grasp. “What do they mean they don’t have Steve? What do they want with me?”

Bucky’s gaze was hard. He could feel the cold brewing in his stomach, gathering strength as fear gave way to panic and panic to anger.

“Look out!” Tony shouted, face plate snapping shut.

Bucky turned as the warehouse doors blew inward, sending the group back against the warehouse walls. A dozen heavily armed HYDRA guards rushed through the opening, rifles up and aimed at the Avengers. Sam flew in with them, stumbling a little as he landed at Bucky’s side. His left wing was on fire and he shook it roughly, trying to put out the flames before it could damage any of the fragile machinery.

“We’ve got company,” he said, pulling a gun out of the pocket on his suit.

“Noticed,” Bucky growled.

“Let go of the girl!” One guard shouted, stepping to the head of the line of black-suited men. He aimed his gun at Bucky who shifted Robyn behind him, spreading his arms out protectively in front of her.

“Drop the gun.” Bucky snarled.

“Release her!” the guard shouted. All Bucky could see of him was his eyes, narrowed and dark beneath his helmet and above a muzzle-mask like the one he used to wear.

“Drop the gun!” Bucky shouted just as ferociously. “If you think you’re the one calling the shots here, you’re wrong. SHIELD doesn’t negotiate.”

“Alright, enough chatter.” Tony stepped forward, raising his arm. “Adios, Nazi shitheads.”

Light burst from his palm and dove into the line of guards, scattering them easily. Fire burst into life just beyond the warehouse doors, spreading to catch several wooden crates on fire. Before the guards could return fire, Bucky slid himself and Robyn behind one of the taller crates, watching Sam, Clint, and Natasha do the same.

Then the firefight began in earnest.

“Stay here!” Bucky shouted to Robyn as the guards began to return fire.

She nodded and crouched behind the crate as Bucky stood, firing off a few quick shots with his pistol. He ran between the crates as bullets burst the air around him, finding his way back to Clint and Natasha.

“Damn Nazi’s came out of nowhere,” Clint hissed, stringing an arrow and releasing it into the fray without looking. Several guards screamed as it exploded, shocking them with electricity similar to Thor’s lightning.

“Where’s Robyn?” Natasha traded pistols with Bucky, cracking open one of the crates with her bare hands and reaching in. Bucky watched, wide-eyed, as she pulled a machine gun out of the box, grinning and handing it to Bucky. “It’s a weapons warehouse. Lucky us, right?”

“She’s back there.” Bucky nodded in her direction, firing into the line of HYDRA agents. He saw Tony among them, gold and red suit glinting in the firelight as he tossed men about, heaving them up like they were ragdolls. He watched Sam dodge bullets to find his way to Robyn, easing up beside her and firing a few quick shots off at any guards who got too close to her cover.

“What’s the plan?” he asked as the fire spread, popping and crackling along his war-tested nerves.

“Make it out alive.” Natasha shrugged, popping her head out over the crate and knocking off two guards with her pistols. She ducked down and looked at Bucky with wide eyes, bleeding from a livid red scratch on her cheeks. “Past that, I don’t know.”

“Cap ain’t here to make the calls.” Clint loosed an arrow that struck down two men before it came zooming back to him like a boomerang. He caught it and looked at Bucky, face dark with confusion. “He’s the man with the plan in our little group of misfits.”

Bucky nodded, popping a few heads before vaulting up and over the barrier. “New plan!” he shouted. “Knock those fuckers down! Then we deal with why they want Robyn.”

He moved back to Robyn, striking his back against the crate beside Sam.

“How’re we doing?” he panted, firing a couple shots off between his words.

“She’s not a fighter.” Sam shook his head in Robyn’s direction. “She managed to hit a few guys, but they’re not kill shots.”

Bucky frowned at Robyn. “That’s no good.”

“Well, _excccccccccuse_ me!” she shouted. Her fingers were shaking around the trigger as she poked her head over the crate, firing into an oncoming guard’s thigh. She ducked back behind the crate, gasping in deep, shivering inhales. Her cheeks flushed red in the firelight, standing out vividly against her ice-blue eyes. “I told you I didn’t want to kill anybody!” 

She shifted back over the barrier and cursed when her bullet buried itself into the ground instead of someone’s flesh.

“She’s also kind of terrible shot.” Sam looked back to Bucky. “Did I mention that?

“I’m not a solider!” she shouted. “Shit! Or an assassin!” She looked up at Bucky with wet blue eyes. “I’ve only ever done this in video games!” With shaky fingers she reloaded her pistol, dropping the cartridge and cussing loudly. “And _this_ doesn’t happen when I’m on my computer! It’s not as loud and panicky. There’s no smoke and dust and sweat and this insane urge to _pee my fucking pants._ ” She dropped the gun and cussed again, digging her fingers into her temple. “Like I have to pee so fucking badly and I don’t even know why! _Shit!_ ”

“We need to get her out of here.” Sam dropped his voice as low as he could, so low Bucky had to lean in to hear him. “She’s not like us. She’s never done this before.”

“Hell no, I’ve never done this before!” She shot a guard in the stomach and cussed, shaking her head with tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. “Shit, sorry! Sorry! Look at me, I’m apologizing to the enemy. And now I’m stress crying, oh _JESUS_!”

“Okay, calm down.” Bucky shifted over to Robyn, folding his fingers over hers on the gun’s handle. He looked to Sam. “Think you can make it to the door?”

Sam peered over the edge of the crate, ducking back down when a bullet shattered the wood by his cheek. “Hell, I don’t know.”

“Well, there’s a skylight directly above us.” Sam looked up, eyes narrowing. “It’ll be a tight fit, but do you think you can make it?”

Sam looked back at Bucky, swallowing hard. “I can try.”

Bucky nodded. “Get back to the Tower. Call in Thor. If he’s not there get Bruce. Bring everyone you can and if you see any reinforcements coming, knock ‘em out.”

“Sir, yes, sir.” Sam nodded, backing up a step and letting his wings expand. He rocketed off the ground without another word, passing through a hail of bullets to shatter the skylight above with a great clatter.

Bucky bent his head, folding his palm over the back of Robyn’s neck and forcing her to do the same as glass rained down around them.

“Okay, we’re going to head back.” Bucky paused to fire into the slowly advancing line of HYDRA men. “Do you see where Natasha and Clint are?” He didn’t wait for Robyn’s answer. “We’ll go one at a time. You first, okay?”

“Okay.” Robyn took a deep shuddering inhale, spine stiffening. “Okay, oh God.”

“You’ll be fine.” Bucky managed to force the words out, clamping his arm tightly around her shoulder. “Ready? On three. One, two . . .”

He didn’t make it to three.

A bullet bit into his flesh shoulder, crawling deeper and deeper into the skin before he could spit the word out. At the same time, Robyn cried out, her hand going to Bucky’s injured shoulder. “Bucky, oh -!”

She jerked and fell forward, landing on the floor at Bucky’s feet. She twitched once before going still, eyes shuttering closed.

“NO!” he shouted, reaching down to shake her shoulder. “ROBYN! ROBYN!”

With his metal hand pressed to his injured shoulder, Bucky snarled. Robyn’s hair fell across her shoulder, spilling out away from her neck. Bucky’s eyes narrowed around a small blue dart embedded into her skin, sending red spider webs of poison out into her veins around the dart.

“SHIT!” he shouted, pulling the little dart out of her skin and crushing it between his metal fingers. “Sniper!” he yelled, looking around the warehouse ceiling for any sign of the man who’d fired the dart.

Clint and Natasha did the same. With a muffled cry, Clint pointed above Bucky, loosing an arrow before he could blink. Screaming, a HYDRA agent fell forward through the skylight Sam had forced open. He landed, twitching at Bucky’s feet, before going still, an arrow struck through his throat.

Snarling, Bucky pulled the arrow from his throat, resisting the urge to stab it through the man’s chest for good measure.

“Freeze!” A voice shouted into his ear as metal pressed deep into his scalp. A HYDRA agent had advanced and was bent over Bucky, forcing his head down. “Don’t move!”

Bucky stuck his arms up, growling, as another agent moved to his side, pulling Robyn’s limp body away from him. He fell, an arrow quivering in his chest, but another just stepped up to take his place as more fell upon Clint and Natasha, forcing them down with guns pressed to their heads.

Turning his head, Bucky saw Tony lying on the ground, still in his Iron Man suit. Electricity crackled in the air around him dimming the silver light shining outwards from his chest. Cussing, Bucky turned back around, watching an agent lift Robyn and throw her carelessly over his shoulder.

“Let go of her!” he shouted, straining up onto his knees.

The guard behind him, pressed the gun even deeper into his forehead, snarling curses. “Stay down!”

“I said let go of her!” Bucky’s metal arm twitched, reaching up of its own accord to grab the throat of the man hovering over him. He pulled and the man fell forward, head stretching unnaturally far over his throat. Bucky stood, pulling the gun from his hand and aiming at the guard that held Robyn “Let. Go,” he snarled, feeling the cold creeping up from the center of his belly to his chest.

“You’re outmatched.” The guard backed up a step, swinging Robyn forward so she was dangling upside down over him, protecting his chest like some kind of human shield. “Put down the gun, _Winter Soldier_.”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t drop the gun.

“Drop it.” The soldier repeated, shaking Robyn roughly. “Or are you going to shoot me? You’ll have to shoot her too, you know.” The agent’s eyes narrowed sharply.

Out of the corner of his eye, Bucky saw Natasha’s head jerk up. She shook her head once before the agent above her forced it back down, but it was enough. Bucky saw it. His fingers tightened around the gun.

“I’m not above it,” he snarled, but he was bluffing. Shooting a target through somebody was something the Winter Soldier would do, not him.

But then again, the Winter Soldier was dangerously close to the surface. Bucky could feel him kicking and screaming in the darker parts of his brain, struggling to find a purchase. A few more minutes and _he_ would be there and then Bucky wouldn’t be able to stop him.  

But in the end, it wasn’t Bucky or the Winter Soldier that made the call on how to save Robyn.

Because she did it all by herself.

Bucky watched as Robyn’s eyes jerked open, blinking rapidly. He looked down at her as she twitched, still dangling upside down in the shoulders arms. Frowning, she crunched upwards, clenching her fists into the agent’s collar. She pulled herself up and rammed her forehead into his, head butting him so hard he stumbled backwards. He fell and she fell with him, digging her knees into his chest as they landed heavily on the concrete. Stunned from the blow, the man’s arms loosened and Robyn took the opportunity to pull herself out of his grip, kicking her legs back into his face when he tried to grab her ankles.

She slid away from him on her butt until she could slide no more, back pressed to the sharp edge of a wooden crate. She raised her arm and Bucky saw she was still holding the little pistol he’d given her. Her eyes were wide and panicky, her face betraying the fear the fight had inspired within her. Her hands did shake around the gun, but she was so close that Bucky doubted she could miss.

 Fear was an awfully strong motivator. Bucky knew that one first hand.

“Retreat!” One guard shouted and the line of men moved back. “The formula wasn’t strong enough! Retreat!”

The men moved towards the door. Bucky jumped up and hit as many as he could, savagely enjoying the sound they made when they fell. Clint loosed some arrows, striking the men in their defenseless, fleeing backs but there were too many of them. More than Bucky would have liked made it out, abandoning their dead and injured without a second thought.

Breathing hard, Bucky squared his shoulder, glaring at the empty warehouse door and the darkness beyond it. The fire was slowly diminishing, losing power and flickering out as a set of sprinklers kicked on above them all. Tony sat up shakily, shaking his head and losing the suit in bits and pieces.

“God, what a doozy,” he muttered, standing up and kicking at one cracked and broken foot piece, still crackling with electricity. “Those guys sure do pack a punch.”

Bucky turned away from him and moved carefully toward Robyn and the man she faced. He was groaning on the ground, moving to stand. But before Bucky could reach him, he was slammed back into the ground. Natasha stood above him, both hands proper onto her hands. She dug her heel deeper into the man’s chest, watching him squirm with a soft smirk.

She looked to Bucky and jerked her head back towards the man she’d tied up earlier. There was a little pool of blood leaking outward from the man’s belly. “Looks like HYDRA’s not too friendly to those who spill their own secrets,” she said.

Bucky nodded grimly, moving to stand in front of Robyn. He reached down and hooked his hand under her elbow, pulling her up gently.

“You alright?” he asked, tracing his eyes carefully over her face.

She nodded, but her eyes were bleary and she stumbled a little when Bucky let go of her. Whatever they’d drugged her with had obviously not been enough to incapacitate her, but it was pretty damn close.

“Goddammn, that was a mess,” he cussed, rubbing his hands over his eyes.

“Clearly they knew we were coming,” Clint said, stepping up beside Natasha. He looked at Robyn’s, brows dipping low over his eyes. “But seeing Robyn was a bit of a surprise.”

“What do they want with her?” Tony asked, scowling down at the agent they’d caught. “Hmm? Do you have any idea?”

The agent said nothing, turning his head to spit into the ground.

“That’s not very nice.” Tony’s eyes narrowed.

Bucky shook his head. “He’s not going to tell us anything.” He reached for his gun, but found it gone, kicked away across the floor of the warehouse.

He looked to Robyn. “Kill him.”

Robyn blinked, shaking her head hesitantly.

Bucky nodded in the direction of the whimpering agent, looking at the gun in Robyn’s hands. “Do it.”

“ _What_?” her voice was less than a whisper, a breathy impossible gasp. “You-you . . . you can’t be serious?”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” Bucky knew the answer.

“But I can’t just . . .” Robyn swallowed hard, looking at the gun in her hand. “I can’t just _shoot_ somebody.”

“It’s easy enough.” Bucky frowned. “You did it before.”

“But I wasn’t trying to . . .” She shook her head. “I wasn’t going to kill them!”

“Just aim for something important this time.” He took a step towards her, holding his metal arm out. “Want me to show you?”

“No!” She jumped away from him, backing into Clint and almost tumbling backwards. “Just . . . no.” She amended, looking away from Bucky and down at the gun in her hand. “Please. Can’t we just leave him?”

“He’s a HYDRA agent,” Bucky scoffed, turning his head to glare at the man pinned beneath Natasha’s shoe. “He’ll just go crawling back to his masters if we leave him.”

“You don’t know that.” Robyn’s eyes were incredibly blue, burning with a righteous internal light. The look was so _Steve_ that it made his heart ache.

“Yes, I do,” he snapped, taking a threatening step towards her. “Now shoot the bastard and be done with it.”

“No!” Robyn voice was firm, but her hands were shaking around the gun as she slid it behind her back, out of Bucky’s reach. “I’m not going to kill him.”

Bucky threw up his hands. “You’re impossible!”

“No, I’m _fair_.” Robyn tipped her chin up.

“You think he’d spare you!” Bucky’s hands clenched at his sides. He wanted to be done with this, all of it. He could see now that bringing Robyn had been a bad idea, a terrible one. He wished the stupid brat would just shut up and listen to him so they could find Steve. So _he_ could find Steve and ask him where the hell he found this sassy kid and what exactly he was going to do about her.

“If you were in his position and he was the one behind the trigger, you think he’d hesitate!” Bucky’s voice was too loud. He could hear it echoing through the empty warehouse, bouncing back to ring in his own ears.

“Hey.” Clint stepped up behind Robyn, bow down at his side. He held one hand out to Bucky, a calm placating gesture like that of a trainer trying to calm a wild animal. “Chill out, man.”

“Don’t tell me to calm down,” Bucky snapped. He barely felt the cold as it crawled up his neck, settling onto his tongue and in between his teeth. It spread through his collarbones out to his shoulders while it creeped up to rest between his eyes, a solid chunk of ice in the middle of his forehead.

“I-I-I don’t know what he’d do.” Robyn’s voice was less sure, less confident. But her eyes were still burning with that ferocious light. For a moment, Bucky thought it would be enough to burn away the cold eating at him. But she looked away and the cold grew, spreading and spreading until Bucky was gone and only the Winter Soldier remained.

“Well, I know what I’d do.” The Winter Soldier took one step and he was in front of her, pushing her back against the wall.

She gasped, her back slamming against the rough metal wall. The Winter Soldier followed her, ignoring the sounds of people rushing around behind him. Robyn blinked up at him, more than a little dazed, following his metal arm as it reached behind her, fingers locking around her wrist. She screamed when he pulled it forward, almost yanking her arm out of its socket. Her other hand came up, scratching at the Winter Soldier’s metal fingers but he easily knocked her arm away, holding it back with his flesh-and-blood hand. Slowly, he squeezed his fingers until he heard bones creaking beneath flesh.

“Let go!” He heard someone call behind him. In the dim, fuzzy part of his brain that wasn’t bent on prying the gun out of Robyn’s hand, Bucky thought it might have been Natasha. “Just let go, Robyn!”

“Shit, shit, shit!” The girl gasped, her face twisted with pain. “Oh God.”

She turned her face away as she dropped the gun, unable to watch. It fell with a clatter at the Winter Soldier’s feet and he looked down at it, slowly releasing Robyn’s wrist.

She gasped and fell away from him, cradling her arm into her chest as he reached down and picked up the gun. He turned away and started walking towards the captured agent, cocking the gun and holding it at the target’s temple.

“Bucky!” the girl breathed, panting through her pain. “Bucky, stop!” She sounded close to tears.

But, unfortunately for her, there was no Bucky. There was only the Winter Soldier. And he didn’t stop for anything.

Bucky managed to pull himself out of the cold in time to watch the poor man die, gasping thinly before rolling back into silence. The gun fell from numb fingers, cracking loudly against the paved floor. There was a great gasp from behind him, a kind of hushed sob that forced itself out between mashed lips and clenched teeth.

Bucky stared at the dead agent, watching the blood leak slowly from his corpse. It traced across the ground towards his feet, pooling around his boots. Then he closed his eyes and turned away, walking out of the warehouse without a word.


	5. Gone Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robyn has a lead on Steve's whereabouts, but when Bucky won't let her help in the rescue mission she is kidnapped by the very people holding Steve hostage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is NOBODY gonna take any guesses as to Robyn and Bucky's relationship??? NOBODY?!?!?! Fine, suit yourself. Steve's in the next one uwu took long enough but we're finally going to hear from him

Gone Again

Once the medical team got the bullet out of his shoulder, Bucky healed quickly. By the next day, his shoulder was only a little sore and he was, more or less, back to working condition. Robyn took a little more time. When Bucky stopped in to check on her, she was asleep, hand clasped on the silver dog tag around her neck.

He thought about lifting her hand, about stepping closer to see the name stamped into the silver, but thought against it. She had no reason to trust him. Hell, his handprint was plastered across her throat. He was amazed she was still standing, still fighting after everything that had happened.

She trusted him. _Him_. Winter Soldier and all. So Bucky wasn’t exactly keen on losing that trust.

Unfortunately, it seemed fate, or rather Tony Stark, was working against him.

“What is that?” he asked when he stepped out of Robyn’s room and into the main common area, Avengers home base.

He pointed at the large screen Tony had installed into the windows of the tower and the video running on loop within it. It was the same video Robyn had showed him earlier, the one of Steve being kidnapped. Bucky swallowed hard and resisted the urge to ram his fist through Tony’s precious screen.

“This?” Tony turned to him and Bucky saw the rest of the Avengers gathered behind him. “Oh, this is what Miss No-Name back there didn’t want us to see.”

He waved his hand in front of the screen and the video started up again, sound blaring from invisible speakers all over the room.

“Let go of me!” Steve shouted and Bucky’s heart clenched. “Hey, no! Stay away from her!”

_Her_.

Bucky’s eyes widened and he took a step towards the screen, mouth hinging open.

“No! Leave her! Take me, leave her. Don’t hurt her! She’s not –” A swift kick to the gut shut him up. “She doesn’t know him, I promise!”

_Him_.

Bucky blinked as the video closed with Steve being dragged off down the hallway.

“Her,” he breathed and they all knew exactly who he was talking about.

The door opened with a clatter behind them and Robyn, still in the torn, dirty clothes she’d worn to the warehouse, stepped in with shock written all over her face.

“Where did you get that?” she asked with just the smallest tremor rocking her words.

“See, the problem with having technology just like mine is that I know how to hack it,” Tony continued. “The programming threw me for a loop a little at first – bet that was your design – but it was easy enough to crack the code and get into the real nitty gritty stuff.”

Behind him the footage was still playing.

“Don’t hurt her!” Steve shouted, over and over again. “Don’t hurt her!”

Robyn closed her eyes and looked away, opening and closing her mouth several times before trying to speak. “Look, I can explain.”

“Oh, you better.” Fury was back on her, good eye narrowed into a sharp slit. “And it better be a damn good explanation or you can kiss your freedom goodbye. I’ll lock you up until your old and grey I’m and looong dead,” he growled.

Robyn made a fist and folded her other hand over it, pressing them both to her sternum. “I can explain,” she took a deep breath. “But I can’t right now.”

“Sure you can.” Fury sat down, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’ve got all day.”

“No, I seriously –” She stopped, turning her head and biting down hard on her lower lip. “I can’t.” She shook her head, looking from Fury to Natasha to Bucky. “I just can’t, okay? I made a promise.”

“To who?” Fury snapped. “God? Cause unless you got a better answer, I’m going to have to hear it.”

“Steve.” Her voice cracked a little and she looked to Bucky and away. “I made a promise to Steve.”

“Saying what?” Fury and Bucky spoke at the same time.

“That I wouldn’t –” Her voice hitched and she looked away. “Look, does it even matter? Yes, I knew Steve, he was my roommate. And yes we had a clue that HYDRA was after me, but no I did not know that the people who took him were not HYDRA. But whoever it is, they went to great lengths to hide under the HYDRA banner. I mean, look at those outfits! That’s old HYDRA gear!”

“I want an explanation.” Fury’s voice was cold.

“And I can’t give it to you!” Her hands fisted in her hair and Bucky was worried for a second she might try and rip it out. “I promise, promise, _promise_ I’ll tell you everything the minute we find Steve.” Again her eyes went to Bucky and away. He started counting the number of times she did that, narrowing his eyes every time she did. “But up until that point I _can’t_ tell you.” She looked to Bucky then Natasha, eyes big and pleading. “I’m on your side, I swear to God. I want Steve back just as much as you do and I’m doing everything I can to help –”

“Not everything.” Tony crossed his arms over his chest, pointing to the screen behind him. “You’re withholding evidence.”

“It’s isn’t relevant!” She made a noise that was a cross between a shout of frustration and a groan. “God, you people are so hard to deal with. Fine, fine! If you won’t help me I’ll find him on my own.”

“And just how the hell do you expect to do that?” Fury leaned forward out of his seat.

“My landlord!” she cried, throwing her hands up. She closed her eyes and turned away from the group, pacing in a quick circle to calm her nerves. If the atmosphere hadn’t been so tense, Bucky would’ve laughed; that was just the kind of thing he did whenever he was nervous.

When she had calmed down, Robyn turned back to the group, crossing her arms over her chest defensively. “Okay. So I called him last night to ask if he knew anything about where Steve might be. Said he didn’t blah, blah, blah. But when I asked him about the guys who took Steve he said he remembered talking to them before. He said they came around a couple times asking after Steve.”

“Not much of a lead.” Fury scoffed.

“Shut up!” Robyn hissed at him. “God! Let me finish.” She shook her head, turning to address Bucky and no one else. “He said he’d talked to the head guy, some guy named –” She shut up abruptly, scowling in Fury’s direction. “Oh, very clever, Director.”

“Some guy named . . .?” he tried to goad her into finishing her sentence but she didn’t buy it.

“I know who the guy is and where he lives _and_ where he works.” Robyn tipped her chin up. “After he gets off work tonight, I’m going to follow him and see if he leads me to Steve.”

Natasha’s mouth fell open. “You’re serious?”

“What else am I going to do?” Robyn let her hands drop, massaging her temples. “Sit here with you lot and twiddle my thumbs? No. I’m going to freaking do something. And if you wanna come with, fine. But I’m not telling you anything so you can go without me.” She squared her shoulders. “I told you I wanted to be involved in this rescue and I meant it.”

Sam spoke up from the first time, hooking his arm over the back of a sofa. “But we still don’t know if we can trust you,” he looked to Bucky for confirmation.

“For Christ’s sake!” Her hand twitched, going again to the little flash of silver at her throat. “You gave me a gun. _He_ gave me a gun!” She thrust her arm out towards Bucky. “And did I go crazy and try to shoot any of you? No!”

“But we know you don’t follow directions,” Bucky pointed out. She turned to him with a wounded look and he had to look away to continue speaking. “I mean, I ordered you to kill that agent and . . .”

“That was different.” She sighed heavily. “Look, please, please trust me. I know I’m asking for a lot, but I just really want to find Steve. I want to find him and move on with my life. He’s –” Her voice cracked and she looked down, kicking her feet against the floor. “He’s all I have.”

Bucky whipped his head around to stare at her. _Funny_ , he thought staring at her. _Cause he’s all I have too._

In a move that surprised them all, Natasha stepped forward, standing calmly at Robyn’s side. “I’ve got you.”

Bucky blinked, watching relief bloom and fold into all corners of Robyn’s face. He looked to Sam and the Falcon shrugged, raising his hands in a gesture of acquiescence.

“Well, hell, if Natasha’s in.” Sam stood.

“You’re not serious.” Tony was relentlessly resistant. “I mean, I think she’s a good kid, but I wouldn’t trust her with my life or anything.”

“That’s cause you’re a paranoid bastard.” Clint dropped down from the rafters, straightening at Robyn’s side. He smiled out of the side of his mouth, looking at Tony with a half shrug. “No offense.”

“Offense taken,” the billionaire grumbled sullenly.

“Look at her, Tony.” Bruce was in Sam’s seat, arms folded over the back of the couch. “She looks . . . hell, she looks like _Steve_.”

The whole room turned to Bruce with questioning eyes.

The scientist shrugged, pushing a pair of glasses up his nose. “What?”

“Do explain, Doc.” Fury was almost as grumpy as Tony, who looked at Bruce with a betrayed expression.

“Well, she doesn’t look like him physically of course.” Bruce plucked the glasses off the bridge of his nose, folding them and sliding them into his shirt pocket. “I mean of everyone here Robyn looks more like James than anyone else.” At Bucky’s cringe, the doctor raised his hands. “Sorry, sorry. Bucky. She looks more like Bucky.”

“Better.” Bucky folded his arms over his chest.

“But look at her. Really look. That expression? I’ve only ever seen that on one other person.” Bruce tilted his head in Robyn’s direction.

Tony’s shoulders dropped and he closed his eyes. “Steve,” he and Bruce said at the same time.

“Plus, she practically radiates goodness.” Bruce waved his hand in her direction. “I would equate it to spending so much time with Steve, but it’s been almost four days now and she still smells like sugar and spice and everything nice.”

Robyn’s face crinkled like she wasn’t sure whether Bruce’s words were a compliment or an insult.

“Oh hell.” Tony dropped his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re right.”

The doctor nodded with a small smile playing around his lips. “I am.”

“What do you think?” Tony looked in Bucky’s direction. “I mean your Cap’s closest friend and you’ve spent more time with this girl than anyone else. You think we can trust her to point us in the right direction?”

The room then turned to Bucky and he looked down, rubbing the back of his neck with his metal hand. “I . . .”

He tilted his head back up and saw Robyn looking at him with the purest expression. Bruce was right, she did look like Steve. Her expression was carbon copied from his face, even if the features around it looked more like Bucky’s than Steve’s. It was a trusting expression, a beautiful expression, so full of hope and goodness that it made Bucky’s heart ache just looking at it. 

_I don’t deserve her_ , he thought, looking back down. _Just like I don’t deserve Steve._

“Yes,” he said after a moment, breathing in a sigh that came up all the way from his toes. “Yes, I trust her.”

He didn’t have to see Robyn’s face to know what expression she was wearing. He could feel the warmth of it from here, working to beat back the mounting cold in his gut.

“Really?” Fury was skeptical. He leaned back in his seat, arms still crossed over his chest. “You trust this kid?”

“I do.” Bucky didn’t look at Robyn. Instead he looked out the window, down over the city of New York.

Steve was out there. Somewhere. He was out there being tortured or brainwashed or god-knew-what. And if the only way to get him back was to trust the word of one scrawny kid, he’d do it. No questions asked.

But it was more than that, he thought, turning around to look at Robyn. He trusted her. Against all his good judgment, Bucky trusted Robyn. Why? He had no fucking idea. He just did. It was natural, almost instinctual to trust her. There was just something about her. Something about her . . .

“Well, hell.” Fury stood, regarding the room with one cold eye. “Since I can’t stop you, I might as well help.” Bucky watched him swallow his pride and look to Robyn, brows raised. “What do we do?”

Bucky looked to Robyn and watched her face as she tried very hard not to smile. “Okay.” She took a deep breath, looking around the room. “Here’s the plan.”

 

~

 

Four hours later, Bucky and Robyn were sitting in a driveway in Brooklyn, eating takeout in the front seat of some beat up old Honda.

“Are you sure this is the place?” Bucky asked around a mouthful of Kung-Pow Chicken.

“Mmmhmm.” Robyn nodded, scooping rice into her mouth with a pair of chopsticks. “Mr. Levi said he runs a ratty old club called the Fat Cats. I googled it and this is what came up.” She waved her hand in the direction of the building they sat across from.

It was, to put it simply, a glorified warehouse. The owner had strung some lights up across the front, made a walkway out of the round glass ends of beer bottles and soda cans, and threw a big neon sign over the walkway to try and get it to look more appealing. But the pitiful attempt at hip décor did nothing to disguise the fact that it was, in fact, a warehouse smushed between two crappy, and rather empty, residential districts.

Bucky was disgusted. He knew Brooklyn. He was from Brooklyn. And this pathetic attempt at a club was a stain on the wonderful fabric that was the Brooklyn he knew and loved.

“Pretty crappy, I know,” Robyn continued. “Just eat your chicken.”

“I’m not positive that’s what this is,” Bucky grumbled, holding a piece of the questionable meat up and inspecting it closely. Then he shrugged and popped it into his mouth. “Still tastes like it though.”

“Isn’t takeout wonderful,” Robyn smiled, tipping her little container back to get at the last of her rice.

Bucky nodded. “This century definitely has its perks.” He put down his empty container and burped loudly.

“Ew!” Robyn grinned, smacking his arm. “That’s gross.”

“Sorry,” he shrugged, surprised to find that he too was grinning. “If you had shoved this under my nose when I was little I would’ve thrown it back up in your face.”

“Why?” Robyn smiled.

Bucky shrugged again, linking his arms back behind his head. “It wasn’t what I was used to.”

“You can’t try new things?” Robyn teased, but a little of the play had fallen from her voice.

“I can now.” Bucky looked at her. “There’s so much more freedom in this century. More than I’m used to.”

Bucky let the subject drop. He listened to silence grow between them until Robyn spoke, clearing her voice awkwardly.

“So uh . . .” she trailed off, looking anywhere but him. She played with some rice at the bottom of her container, picking the individual little grains up with her chopsticks. “You weren’t _really_ going to shoot me were you?”

Bucky cringed a little. He couldn’t help it. Agent Hill had patched Robyn up as best as she could, but . . . she had a lot of new injuries. And all of them, every single one, had come from Bucky.

“I’m sorry,” he said and he meant it. “I really didn’t mean to lose control back there.”

“It’s okay,” she shrugged, still looking down into her rice. “I’ve got thick skin.”

The purplish bruises around her neck said otherwise.

“I really am.” Bucky scrubbed his face down into his hands. “I just . . . I really, really, _really_ need to find Steve.”

 She finally looked up at him then, something like a smile lifting the corners of her lips. “Yeah?”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah.”

She smiled, nodding her head a little and looking back into her rice.

Bucky would’ve blushed, could almost feel it rising to his cheeks. Her smile was small, but deeply brilliant, and wicked. She knew. Bucky looked away. Oh Jesus, she knew.

“But to answer your question,” he said sharply, clearing his throat. “No, I . . . I don’t think I would’ve shot you.”

She snorted. “That’s very reassuring.”

“I mean it.” Bucky looked out the windshield staring at the warehouse he and Robyn were staking out. “I used to do that kind of thing. When I was, the other guy, the soldier. I did that kind of stuff without thinking, but with you . . . I don’t think I would have.”

“You didn’t hesitate with Natasha.” Her voice was gentle, not accusatory like he’d expected.

“She told you.” Bucky nodded.

Robyn lifted one shoulder, dropping her takeout container beside Bucky’s. “She said you ruined bikinis for her.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “She would look fine in them.”

Robyn dipped her head. “That she would.”

Bucky slid his gaze to Robyn who was smiling back up at him. Something like fondness surged in his gut and he had to look away to wrestle the feeling into submission. The silence returned until Bucky found a new topic to touch on.

“So how old are you?” he asked.

“22.” Her chest puffed up proudly.

The corner of Bucky’s mouth twitched. “You told Natasha you were 24.”

Robyn closed her eyes, smashing her fingers together in her lap. “Did I say 22? I think I meant 24.”

He just looked at her. “Really?” he said. “You really think I’m going to fall for that?”

She deflated a little. “Well . . .” she trailed off, playing with the threads on the end of her jacket. “I’ll be turning 22.” She looked at him. When he continued to stare at her, she looked away, flicking the little threads up and back down again. “Eventually.”

“Let’s try this again.” Bucky was almost smiling. “How old are you?”

“18,” she sighed.

“Jesus,” Bucky breathed. “You’re barely legal.”

“But I am!” she straightened, tipping her chin up. “And don’t you forget it.”

“So your friend, she died two years ago, right? How does a 16 year old manage to live in New York all by herself, hmm?” Bucky raised an eyebrow in her direction.

“I wasn’t alone,” she said slowly. “I had Maria.”

Bucky let that stand for a minute before he looked at her, eyes softening. “Robyn.” He waited until she looked at him. “What exactly were you running from?”

Her eyes widened. “I wasn’t –”

“Please.” Bucky cut her off with a raised hand. “I know the look. Nobody leaves home that early unless they’ve got a reason.”

She closed her mouth and looked away, chewing on her lip.

“You can tell me,” Bucky said softly, surprised at how desperately he wanted to know. There was something growing in him, a fierce sort of protection for the little girl he barely knew. Even the Winter Soldier could feel it. Its strength rivaled the feeling he held for Steve. But with Robyn it was . . . different. No heat involved, just . . . concern. A sort of parental concern almost, like the kind he’d had for Steve before he realized he was in love with him.

Silence grew between them. For a moment, Bucky thought she might not tell him. He prepared to force her to tell him, growing still when he saw she was opening her mouth, rolling the words carefully over her tongue.

“It wasn’t anything bad,” she said, not looking up at him. “It wasn’t abuse or whatever. So you can relax.”

Bucky released a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding and waited for her to finish.

“It was . . .” Her hands went to her lap, fingernails digging in the fabric of her jeans. She pulled it up and let it snap back into place several times before she continued. “My dad was a great man. Really. But he was kind of . . .” She searched for the word. “ _Obsessed_.”

“With what?”

Robyn paused a moment before she answered. “Genetics.” She nodded, looking down at her fingers. “He was a geneticist.” At Bucky’s confused look she shook her head. “Umm. It’s a scientist who specializes in people’s genes and what exactly makes them who they are.”

Bucky nodded like he knew what she was talking about so she would continue.

“Basically he likes playing around with people’s genes.” She rubbed the back of her neck with one hand. “I don’t know much about it, quite frankly. I was never really . . . I’m not good at math. Or science. Or anything really.” She laughed softly and Bucky frowned. “I like to draw. That’s . . . that’s the only thing I’m good at really. I drew pictures when I was supposed to be taking notes and I –” She stopped and looked up at Bucky, shaking her head with a sad smile. “Look at me, I’m rambling too. Okay.”

She took a deep breath before continuing. “So he was playing around with his genes when he noticed something different.”

“Go on.” Bucky nodded.

Robyn linked her fingers together and played with her cuticles, digging around until the white turned pink and fell away. “His, and I guess mine . . . well, they’re different. Human, but  . . .” She looked up at him. “Not quite.”

Bucky pretended this didn’t upset him. “Okay.”

“So, anyway, he got obsessed like I said. He started looking into his genetic history and my family’s lineage and all that . . .” She trailed off again and Bucky watched her throat move, exposing that little flash of silver. “Turns out my grandfather was pretty obsessed with it too. We found all kinds of stuff he’d dug up on his father and so on.” Her head twitched like she was trying very hard not to look at him. “And then he got sick.”

A furrow formed between Bucky’s eyes.

“Apparently the gene was unstable.” Her mouth pinched around the words. “My grandfather died of liver cancer, brought on by the unstable gene.” She looked up at him then, raw emotion burning in her blue eyes. “And my dad . . . well.” She could only hold his gaze for a few seconds and then she looked away, chest heaving.

“Anyway, so he got sick and then he got . . . _mean_. It was like he was trying so hard to find out what the gene was he just lost sight of everything else. I . . . I mean, I was just a kid. I . . . I couldn’t handle it.”

“So you left.” Bucky pieced together the rest of the story on his own.

“So I left.” She nodded. “And then my father died.”

“Of what?” Bucky felt terrible asking, but he was more concerned with this strange gene and what it might do to Robyn.

Robyn mashed her lips together. “Officially? Heart attack.” She laughed bitterly, shaking her head. “Unofficially? His heart just . . . gave up. Whatever the gene was, whatever it was doing to my dad’s body . . . he just couldn’t take it anymore. His body stopped fighting it. He just _succumbed_.” She sighed brokenly.

“What about you?” Bucky asked for a moment, heart caught in his throat. “Has it given you any problems?”

Robyn shook her head, twisting the silver band at her neck and around and around her finger. “Not yet, but . . .” She looked at him and shrugged, smiling sadly. “Doctors say it’s just a matter of time.”

“No it’s not.” Bucky shook his head. “Look, you’re gonna be fine.”

She laughed, rolling her eyes away from Bucky. “The evidence is stacked against me, isn’t it?” She sniffed a little, turning away. “The odds aren’t exactly in my favor.”

“Don’t say that.” She was right though, and Bucky knew it. “Hey, don’t say that. You’re gonna be fine.”

“Well, it worked for somebody, right?” She shrugged lightly, looking at Bucky with a grimacing smile. “The formula –” she cleared her throat sharply. “I mean, the mutation,” she corrected.

Not for the first time, Bucky had the feeling that she was lying to him. Well, not lying exactly. That was too strong of a word. She was . . . manipulating her words though, telling him only parts of the truth.

“It uh . . . Beyond my grandfather there’s no record of any deaths by genetic mutation.” She rubbed the back of her neck, pinching the skin there. “Granted, I don’t think science in your time was advanced enough to catch something like that.” She hiccupped softly and that’s when Bucky realized she was crying. “No offense.”

Bucky shook his head, unsure of what to do. “Hey.”  He’d always been good with dames, but never crying ones. “Hey,” he said again, reaching out to her. “We’ll fix it,” he found himself saying, whispering to her over the voice of the Winter Solider who was much more callous in his commentary.

_She’s going to die,_ he said. _Leave her before she hurts you._

_But how could she?_ Bucky argued. _I don’t know her._

_Not true,_ still another part of him whispered. _Not true . . ._

“Hey,” he said again, reaching out with his real arm, his flesh-and-blood hand, to pat her gently on the shoulder. “We’ll fix it. I promise.”

_Don’t make promises you can’t keep_ , the Winter Soldier growled.

_Fix it,_ the other half of him pleaded. _Fix her._

“Bucky.” She pulled away and looked up at him, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “There’s something I have to tell you.”

He didn’t say anything, just nodded encouragingly.

“Okay.” She took a deep breath. “Ooookay.” She smiled slightly and looked away from him. “This is going to sound strange, so just bear with me, okay? Okay.” She looked up at him. “I’m –” Her throat closed and she stopped, looking away.

There it was. The truth she’d been skirting around for days. She was finally going to tell him. _Him_ , not Fury.

Her hand went again to her throat, playing with the silver strung around her neck. Bucky followed her hand, eyes narrowing sharply when he saw the round peak of an oval piece of silver. It was, no . . . she was wearing a _dog tag_?

“Red Robin, come in over.” The walkie talkie Bucky had set up on the dash buzzed and Robyn jumped, hands clamping tightly around the dog tag before Bucky could read the name printed across it.

“We’re not finished with this conversation,” he said a little roughly, reaching to grab the walkie talkie with his metal hand. “I told you not to call us that, Natasha.”

“Oh why not?” Bucky could hear her smiling through their static connection. “I think its funny.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “See anything?”

“Our guys on the move,” she said and Bucky looked out the front windshield.

Sure enough, the target, a young Mr. Devon Sharon, was leaving the club, hands shoved deep in his pockets. Bucky watched him head down the street, shoulders hunched defensively.

“Think he knows he’s been tailed?” Bucky asked.

“Nah. Clint and I were really sneaky.” As per Robyn’s plan, the two of them were inside the club, posing as a happy dancing couple.

“Sure,” Bucky snorted. “Meet you in five.”

“Roger,” she said signing off.

“Okay.” When Bucky looked back at Robyn, he could see no tears. Her face was solid and composed with just a tantalizing hint of fear. “Sooo . . .” she breathed. “Clint and Nat are going to come out of the club while we corner the guy.”

“Uh huh.” Bucky reached into the backseat and grabbed his gun, keeping an eye on Devon as he headed down the street.

“Sam’s got air cover in case he rabbits.” Robyn closed her eyes, mentally checking off tallies on her plan roster. “Tony and Bruce are back at the Tower waiting for us to bring him in. God, where’s Thor?”

“Stark said he’d send a suit if things got bad.” Bucky took two more guns, sliding them into holsters on his waist.

Robyn shook her head, waving a hand. “I don’t think we’re going to need it.”

“Be nice to have it just in case,” Bucky countered.

“Yeah, but those things are pretty conspicuous.” Robyn looked at him with a brow raised. “Even if Tony’s not in one, how much you wanna bet somebody’s going to notice an Iron Man suit flying over New York.”

Bucky nodded, tucking two knives into his belt. “Fair enough.”

“I think that’s everything.” She sat up and brushed her hair back behind her ears, shaking her head sharply. “Okay. We can do this.”

Bucky pointed to the glove compartment, stretching into the backseat to grab something. “Reach in there and give me the gun. It’s stuck to the door.”

Robyn looked at him skeptically, reaching for the little compartment. “You’re pretty heavily armed for an ambush operation.”

“Gotta be prepared.” Bucky snagged the pair of handcuffs he’d been reaching for and turned back around.

Robyn had opened the glove compartment with one hand, blinking into the big black emptiness of the box.

“What?” she said. “There’s nothing in here.”

Bucky sighed. “I know.”

“Wha–?”

Bucky grabbed her wrist and yanked her forward, closing her palm around the steering wheel. He hooked the handcuff onto her wrist and looped the other around the far end of the steering wheel before Robyn could even begin to fight back.

“Hey!” she cried, tugging her arm back as Bucky looped the handcuff chain several times around the wheel before locking it into place with the keyhole facing far away from Robyn. “Hey, what do you think you’re doing!”

“I’m keeping you safe,” he said, unable to look at her as he finished gathering the rest of his supplies.

“What? Bucky? Bucky!”

He ignored her and opened the driver’s door, stepping out with his hands shoved deep in his pockets.

“Bucky!” she cried and he closed his eyes, turning and bending so they were at eye level. Her eyes were wide and bruised, hurt and betrayed. “I want to help!” she said, planting her feet against the dashboard and pulling on her stuck wrist. “Let me out!”

“You’re not a solider, kid.” Bucky’s chest hurt. The words burned his mouth even as he said them, and he had to look away to avoid her probing blue-eyed gaze. “This isn’t your fight.”

“Bucky!” she cried, voice growing frantic as he stood placing his palm on the driver’s door. “Bucky, no!”

“Sorry, kid.” He closed the door and turned his back, clicking the keys in his pocket to lock her inside. “I’ll bring Steve back to you, I promise.”

 

~

 

Clint and Natasha were already trailing the guy when Bucky caught up to them. He crept up on them silently, falling into step just slightly behind them, blending into the darkness around him.

“Where’s Robyn?” Clint asked in a low whisper.

Natasha just looked at him. Bucky stared back for half a second before dropping his eyes.

“She’s going to be upset with you,” she finally said.

“She already is.”

“Bucky . . .”

“I can handle it.”

“I don’t think you can, Buck.”

“Let’s just find Steve,” he said through cold clenched teeth. “Then I’ll deal with Robyn.”

Natasha shook her head. “You keep saying that. You keep putting her off. At this rate, I don’t think you’ll ever be ready to _deal_ with her.”

“Drop it.” Bucky growled. She did, but Bucky could feel her reluctance. “We need to find Steve. Everything else can wait,” he said, moving to walk ahead of them.

 

~

 

When they caught up with the target, he had trapped himself in an alley, talking with a hooded guy in low whispered tones. Bucky barely spared the other man a glance before barging into the alley with Clint and Natasha behind him. The pair took one look at him and blanched, scrambling deeper into the alleyway. Bucky just frowned, a fierce, determined look slicing his already hostile features into a razor-sharp scowl.

With his metal hand Bucky reached out and yanked the target’s jacket, holding him up against the wall. His hand shifted to his throat and lifted the guy off the ground, watching his eyes widen with fear.

“Hey, man, I got nothing to do with this!” The other guy was speaking, but Bucky paid him no mind. Clint had him on the floor before he could say another word, foot pressed into the side of his face, arrow held at his neck.

“Where’s Steve?” Bucky growled, watching as the man he held writhed and squirmed in his cold, hard grasp. “Where’s Captain Rogers?”

“Who?” The man coughed, hands scratching at Bucky’s metallic fingers. “Who the hell are you talking about, man?”

“Captain America!” Bucky shoved him deeper into the wall, enjoying the sound of the man’s pained cry. “Where is he!”

“I don’t know!” the guy was shaking and stuttering, lips turning a numb blue color. “I don’t – ack!”

“Bucky!” Someone, probably Natasha, was yelling at him, but Bucky was too far gone. There was cold in his belly and also in his mouth, but instead of consuming him it was actually helping, lifting him up and adding strength to Bucky’s anger. He crunched his teeth around it, let it seep into the fingers he held around the man’s throat.

“Bucky!” Whoever screaming at him was definitely going to regret it. The man was about to break. Bucky could see it. His mouth was opening, flailing as he tried to speak, tried to give Bucky the words he wanted to hear. “BUCKY!”

“WHAT?” he shouted, turning to face Natasha.

Behind her, Clint stood with his hand on his belt resting on the blade of the knife he always carried. Bucky blinked when he saw that, looking beneath his feet to where the other guy had been. The pavement was empty and Bucky blinked at Clint, eyes narrowing.

“You let him go?” he cocked his head, voice rough with anger. “Why?”

“Just take it easy, James.” When Bucky’s gaze drifted down to the hand on the blade’s handle, he released, holding both hands palm out towards him. “Let the poor guy go.”

“Why?” He growled, squeezing his fingers even deeper into the man’s throat. He heard his shivery, rasping gasp, smiled as he kicked weakly at Bucky’s knees.

“Because he doesn’t know where Steve is!” Natasha was in his face, reaching up to place her palms on either side of Bucky’s face.

Bucky flinched back from her touch, but she followed, pressing forward until Bucky was against the wall and his grip loose around the man’s throat.

“Let – me – go!” he gasped, tears streaking down his small, pale face. “Just – let – me – go! I promise, I’ll never sell again! I promise!”

Bucky turned to him, hand going slack in shock. “What?” he breathed.

The boy’s face – Bucky could see now that it was a _boy_ , not a man, a kid just a few years younger than him – blanched when he saw Bucky looking and the tears started anew.

“Please!” he cried. “I ain’t done nothing wrong! I’ll never sell again, I promise!”

“Let him go.” Natasha tapped Bucky’s metal shoulder, right at the place where the prosthetic met flesh and blood.

Bucky slowly released him, uncurling each finger individually from around the boy’s throat. As soon as he was released, the boy ran for it, tripping over his own feet in his haste. Little packets of white powder came flying out of his jacket pockets as he ran and Bucky paused, picking one up and inspecting it closely.

“Cocaine,” Natasha sighed, coming up behind him. “He’s a druggie, not a kidnapper.”

“Did we get the wrong guy?” Clint squatted beside Bucky, poking at the little packets of drugs with his finger.

“No.” Natasha shook her head. “That’s definitely the right guy. That’s exactly who Mr. Levi described.”

“Does he know what he’s talking about?” Clint looked up at her. “I mean, we’re going off the word of some neighbor of Robyn’s. Not the most reliable source.”

“You’ve met him.” Natasha looked to Bucky.

“Have I?” There was something, a dark train of thought wiggling in the back of his mind. It was a nugget of fear, a little pool of dread that was ever-widening, ever-growing. It spread like a disease through his limbs weighing them down until he felt he could no longer walk.

“You went with Robyn –” Natasha’s voice was cut off by the sound of metal scraping against metal and the staccato burst of gunfire.

The dread bloomed like a dark flower in Bucky’s gut and he took off at a dead sprint. _Robyn_ , he thought, pumping his arms even as he reached around to his back, pulling a pistol from one of his many holsters. _Robyn_.

But they got there too late.

Sam was circling overhead and fell sharply when he saw them. He stumbled a little and Bucky had to catch him, folding his wings back into his side as Sam backed away, panting and holding his side.

“I tried to stop them,” he gasped, shaking his head. “But by the time I saw . . . by the time I noticed it was too –”

Bucky pushed past him, running to the car he’d left Robyn inside. There was a huge hole in the windshield, a giant murderous crack that originated over the driver’s side. Peering in through the window Bucky could see the entire steering wheel was missing, ripped straight out of the car.

And with it, Robyn.

There was blood around the glass crack. Robyn’s blood. Obviously whoever had pulled her out had not been gentle. Looking closer, he saw a slight dent in the car door and more blood; they’d knocked her out. A few feet away, in several small pieces, lay the steering wheel and the handcuffs Bucky had clapped on Robyn’s wrists. More blood next to them.

Behind him, Bucky heard Natasha gasp and Clint swore, low and fierce. Bucky himself felt nothing, nothing but the cold and an ache so intense he thought he might never recover.

It was only after they got him to the tower, only after they forced some food down his throat and his head into a shower, only after the kidnapper’s transmission that Bucky really lost it. He swore in every language he knew, upended all of Stark’s furniture and just starting screaming, falling to his knees on the floor with his hands fisted in his hair and his mouth open in the loudest, most terrible scream any of them had ever heard.


	6. A Rescue and A Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All is revealed. Bucky goes in to save Steve and Robyn, but it seems their captor has another plan. Only one may leave with Bucky, so which one does he choose?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one's long. yay, I guess. This isn't the end, by the way. Let me say that again: THIS ISN'T THE END. Everything will be explained in the next chapter and then we've still got a big boss battle with HYDRA coming up. A few more chapter (I'm thinking five but I might make it 6 to get an evenish number or maybe just 4 really really long chapters to make it ten) but GOOD NEWS I've already got a plan for a sequel. The sequel will be set in Asgard so much more of Thor and Loki and all that. Also more Stucky in the next couple chapters as well as the sequel because well obvious reasons. No more Steve/Bucky kidnapping and that kind of stuff. Kay. Enjoy the heartbreak! ~~

The transmission was only three minutes long. But each minute, _each second_ , was torture for Steve Rogers. The torture began not five minutes after he was thrown into the shabby little cell he was currently occupying. It started as a whirlwind of thoughts, each one too hard and too painful to put together coherently.

_Is Robyn okay?_ That was a big one. It was right up there with _Who the hell are these guys?_ and _I’m going to beat them to a pulp._ The violence of his thoughts was a bit of a shock, but not considerably so. He was a soldier, after all. It might have been a while since he’d been on the battlefield, per say, but, at heart, Steve was always a soldier. Always had been.

The first night, when the guards had come to slide a little tray of food under his door, Steve had tried to make his escape. He’d used the small tray as a miniature version of his shield, kicking the door open with enough brute force to take down two of the three nearby guards. He’d bounced the tray off the wall to hit the other one, but had barely taken two steps before he was downed. Standing at the end of the hallway, smoke trailing from the barrel of his little pistol, Steve had a few seconds to get a good glance at his captor.

He was a small old man, with wiry hands and a grey aged face. Thick round glasses sat on the bridge of his nose and his hand shook slightly around the gun he held, but his shot was more or less on target.

Steve collapsed with a hand to his side, trying to dig the bullet out of his flesh. He passed out not long after that and when he woke up, there was no bullet but no food either. When Steve tried to stand he felt ten pounds lighter and found that his legs no longer supported him. There was a thick red band around his wrist and a puncture hole in a vein not far from it. Steve blinked at it, poking at the oozing wound with his finger before lapsing back into unconsciousness; they were taking blood from him.

Steve, delirious, dehydrated, and starved, felt his world was ending. Lying in that cell, with blood being drawn from him twice a day, Steve felt he’d reverted back into the skinny kid he once was. Every ounce of strength his super-soldier body managed to build up was quickly torn away from him and replaced with a heavy lethargic dread.

His torture got even worse when they shoved Robyn in there with him.

He was lying on his side knees hooked up into his chest when they opened the door a crack. Food came in first – on a paper plate this time – and the barrel of a gun followed, along with a harsh order for Steve to keep back. Unable to do anything but kind of shuffle backwards, Steve kept to his cell corner watching as the guard peered in, cracking the door open a little wider.

In came two guards, holding a girl up between them. She’d stopped struggling, but it was clear she’d tried before. There were all sorts of bruises and bumps on her, some old some new. Steve was watching her with a sleepy disinterest when she lifted her head and Steve saw her face.

“Oh God,” he coughed, trying to make a move to sit up. “Robyn,” he gasped. “Robyn!”

“Steve!” She gasped as the guards dropped her and she fell heavily onto her hands and knees. One guard even dared to kick her, sending her back towards Steve with a muffled grunt.

“Back!” The guard at the door put his gun down to let the other two through. He quickly flashed his gun back up, keeping it trained on the two of them until the door was completely shut.

“Robyn,” Steve coughed, reaching one arm out towards her.

“Holy shit, Steve.” She was above him, hands fluttering all over his bruised and battered body. There were tears in her eyes and on her face, falling onto Steve’s cheek and tracing a path down the side of his jaw. “Shit,” she cussed, pressing one hand lightly to his forward. “What did they do to you?”

Steve tried to shake his head. “I’m fine.”

“No you’re not!” Her upper lip quivered but she closed her eyes, shaking her head sharply. “Don’t cry,” she hissed to herself, reaching down to the bottom of her shirt and tearing off a good chunk of it. “Goddammit, Robyn, don’t cry.”

“What –” Steve croaked, licking his lips and trying again. “What are you doing?”

“You’re bleeding all over the place.” She took the strip of her shirt and ripped it into smaller chunks, tying one around the bruised red dot above his vein. Steve’s super-healing had mended the hole the first couple times, but each day they had ripped it back open and even Steve’s super soldier body had been unable to keep up.

“Oh God,” she breathed. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.”

Steve tried laughing. It hurt his face and his throat but warmed his chest a little. “I thought you said you weren’t religious.”

She frowned down at him, eyes red with unshed tears. “I’m not, you dumbass.” She huffed, chewing on her lower lip as she wrapped another chunk of shirt around a wound just above his eyebrow. “It’s an expression.”

“‘S a pretty dumb expression.” Steve slurred, eyes shutting involuntarily.

“Hey, no!” Robyn slapped his cheek lightly, not hard but enough to get him to open his eyes. “No. No sleeping, okay. At least not until I patch you up some.” She stopped dabbing at his wounds and reached for the paper tray of food.

Its contents were this side of pathetic. A crusty old biscuit, one dirty apple – with a big bite already taken out of the side – a slab of something that might have been meat but might also have come out of someone’s ass, and a carton of milk. The milk was nice. That was definitely a surprise, and Steve smiled as he looked at it. It was a dumb, stupid smile but in that moment Steve could think of nothing better, nothing more he wanted than that little carton of milk.

Robyn saw the smile and cracked open the carton, helping Steve sit up so his head was resting in her lap.

“Here,” she said, tilting the carton down to his lips. “Drink.”

Steve tried to shake his head, even as his lips were folding around the paper. “You need it.”

She shook her head as he drank, stroking his hair lightly. “No I don’t.” Steve watched her lower lip quiver again and she looked away, shaking her head as she helped Steve drink. “I’m not getting out of here.”

“What?” Steve asked once he’d finished the milk, sitting up a little so Robyn could work on the rest of his wounds. “What do you mean?”

Robyn shook her head, mashing her lips in a firm line. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes it –!” Steve tried to lean forward, but his arms would not support him. He fell on his face, cringing when the wound above his eyebrow reopened spilling blood onto the floor at Robyn’s feet. “It does,” he said when he’d pushed himself back onto his arms with Robyn’s help. He caught her arm as she tried to pull away, trying to read her eyes. “It does.”

Robyn looked away, sighing shakily before looking back at him. “I heard his plans for us.”

Steve shook his head. “Start at the beginning. How’d he find you?”

Robyn’s cheeks turned a light pink and she looked away, reaching towards the plate and breaking the biscuit in half. “Eat,” she said, thrusting it out towards Steve.

Steve’s eyes narrowed. “Robyn . . .” He let the silence at the end of his sentence speak for him.

“I might have gone to SHIELD for help.” Robyn didn’t look at him as she spoke. She fiddled with the biscuit, breaking a crumb off and mashing it between her fingers before she handed the rest to Steve. 

Steve choked. “You did _what_?”

“Your boy was there.” Robyn finally looked at him with warm, knowing eyes.

Steve shook his head. “Who?”

Robyn tipped her head down, eyebrow raised. “You know who.”

“No I –” The air whooshed out of Steve’s gut as the implication behind Robyn’s words hit him. “ _Bucky_?” he gasped.

Robyn nodded, smiling softly. “He came back for you.”

Steve had to look away, couldn’t let her see the happiness that started in his toes and rose like a wave over him. The joy, the sheer joy, he felt was indescribable. After months and months of searching, Bucky had come to _him_. He’d actually cared enough to find him.

Steve’s heart swelled.

“How is he?” Steve tried not to sound too desperate as he asked.

But Robyn heard and she smiled anyway. “Mostly intact. Memory’s sound enough and he’s got a lid on the Winter Soldier.” She rubbed the largest bruise Steve could see, one big purplish nightmare that wrapped around the slender column of her throat. “Most of the time anyway. But more importantly, he’s looking for you.” She looked at him, smile dropping away. “He’s been in New York for a couple weeks now, just watching out for you.”

“He was?” Steve wasn’t sure whether to be glad that Bucky had been looking out for him or angry that he hadn’t made his presence known. After a moment he settled on both emotions, but locked them away for when he had the luxury to feel them.

“He came to the tower around the same time I did and well . . .” she trailed off and looked away.

The look on her face was answer enough, but Steve had to ask anyway. “Did you tell him?”

She paused a minute before she spoke, like she was trying to phrase her answer in a way that wouldn’t get her in trouble. “Not . . . quite.”

Steve took a deep breath, closing his eyes. “Why?”

“I just.” She stopped, reaching for the apple and tossing it to Steve.

He managed to catch it, curling his fingers around the small fruit. The milk had really done the trick. He wasn’t completely up to speed, but he was certainly feeling much more like Captain America and less like skinny Steve Rogers. He took a bite out of it and chewed slowly, waiting for her to continue.

“I just couldn’t, okay?” she said eventually, digging her nails into her palms. “It wasn’t the right time and I just couldn’t find the words and –” She stopped again, sighing and ducking her head so it hung below her shoulder blades.

“You panicked.” Steve said the words for her.

She nodded her head miserably, not looking up. “I made some dumb excuse about not being able to because I promised you –”

“Robyn,” he scolded.

“Ugh!” she cried, standing up and pacing a quick circle about the small room. “I just couldn’t, Steve. I did tell him about the gene thing though. Or at the very least I hinted at it.”

“So you got halfway there but couldn’t quite go all the way.” Steve shook his head. “Robyn, you’ve got to tell him.”

“No I don’t!” She shook her head ferociously. When Steve looked at her, she sighed, looking around the room at anything but him. “It doesn’t matter anymore, Steve. Don’t you get it? It doesn’t matter. I didn’t tell him and now I’m never going to get the chance.”

“What are you –?” Steve was starting to panic. “What are you talking about?”

She shook her head again, kneeling in front of him. She reached forward, straightening his torn, shabby clothes as best she could. “Any minute they’re going to come back in here with a camera and make a film to show to Bucky. We’ve got to be presentable.”

Even as she spoke, Steve could hear footsteps coming down the hallway towards them.

“What’s their plan?” he lowered his voice, shuffling so he could sit up against her. “You said you’d heard something . . .?”

“Not now,” she said out of the side of her mouth, tensing beside him as the footsteps got closer.

“Yes now!”  Steve hissed low in her ear. “Robyn, tell me!”

She took a deep breath before she spoke.

“They’re going to make him choose,” she said as the footsteps stopped in front of their cell.

“Choose?” Steve asked as the door creaked open.

The screech of the rusty iron hinges masked the sound of Robyn’s next words as she leaned in, whispering them directly into Steve’s ear. “Between us, Steve. They’re going to make Bucky choose which one of us he wants. The other dies.”

And then their captors came in with the camera and there was no time to react. The transmission started and Steve cried the whole way through it. He couldn’t help it, he really couldn’t. He felt like the dirt on the bottom of Robyn’s shoes and the slime next to the rails of the New York subway system. He was the lowest of the low. He was worse than trash, he was subhuman.

Because, after Robyn had told him what their captor’s plan for them was, he’d felt relieved. _Relieved_.

Because he knew he wasn’t going to die. Because Robyn hadn’t told Bucky who she was to him. Because Bucky would never in his right mind choose some girl he didn’t know over his best friend, over Steve Rogers, over national hero Captain America.

He’d felt relief so intense he’d almost smiled. But then his conscious had caught up with him and he’d burst into tears.

“Stop!” Robyn was beside him, rubbing her hands over his hair. “Come on, Stevie. This isn’t like you. Come on, don’t cry. It’s going to be okay.”

“No!” he just shook his head, reaching up to grab her hand and folding his palm around her fingers. “No, Robyn. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

He couldn’t quite get the words out. Couldn’t tell her that she needed to stay far, far away from him, couldn’t tell her that he was the worst human being alive for feeling the way he did.

But Robyn knew anyway. Damn it all, she knew.

She smiled at him with the eyes of a dead man. “It’s okay, Steve. It’s gonna be okay.”

But it wasn’t. It really wasn’t.

So he stared at the camera and cried and willed Bucky to pick Robyn. Steve didn’t deserve to live. He didn’t deserve a second chance. He didn’t deserve Robyn, or Bucky, or SHIELD, or any of the friend’s he’d made there. He was trash, absolute trash, and yet . . . Somewhere, in the deepest darkest corner of his mind, Steve knew he was going to live. And he was glad. Because it meant he would see Bucky again.

Captain America had never really cried before. He’d fallen into a depressed stupor after Bucky had fell; lost his will to live when he’d realized the Winter Solider was, in fact, his dead best friend; and forced down his emotions when he came to the gut wrenching conclusion that he might never get him back.

But when that camera flipped open, Captain America sobbed while Robyn knelt at his side, stuffing a fist into her mouth to keep from crying herself. She wouldn’t look at the camera, at the people she knew were watching on the other side. And Steve reached for her, held her hand while he cried.

Because he was going to live.

And she was not.

*

Someone, probably Clint, knocked Bucky out with a tranquilizer dart after the transmission ended. When he woke up, everything hurt and his eyes were red and puffy. He searched his head for traces of the cold, looked high and low for the mind of the Winter Soldier, but did not find him. It was only when he stood and looked down at the dim reflected light bouncing off his metal arm that he realized he couldn’t feel him because he was _right there._

He wasn’t buried beneath the surface, he wasn’t roiling in his gut, poking and prodding and generally raising hell in an effort to get Steve back. No. He was right there with Bucky, sharing his head space and putting the power behind his actions as he got dressed in full battle gear and swaggered out of his room into the main Tower commons.

He saw the team gathered there. Tony and Fury were standing in front of one of the billionaire’s many computer modules, watching something like a strand of DNA spin around and around again. Natasha and Clint were on the floor not far from them. Clint was sharpening his arrows, sliding them into his quiver with a sharp _shlick_ and Natasha was tinkering with one of the many buttons on her suit, sending an electric spark into the air beside Clint’s ear.

“Watch it, Nat,” he hissed.

She didn’t respond, but her mouth tightened and Bucky could see the anger radiating in small lines outward from her forehead.

Bruce was lying on the couch with his head in his hands, massaging his temples while he spoke to Stark in a low voice. He was obviously commenting on whatever Stark was looking at, using one word over and over and over again.

_Kin_.

Coulson was missing as was Thor, but Bucky hadn’t seen the hulking demigod at all since he’d arrived in the Avenger’s Tower so that didn’t surprise him much. Sam was slouched beside the door, but he snapped to attention when Bucky walked in, eyes wide and foreboding.

“Cut it off!” he shouted, sliding into Bucky’s line of sight.

Bucky watched through narrowed eyes as the room collectively turned to look at him, falling silent as Stark’s three big monitors went dark. He could taste the guilty air of the room as he walked in, outfitted in full Winter Soldier attire, missing only the muzzle mask HYDRA had forced him to wear.

“What’s going on?” he asked slowly, giving Steve’s friends a chance to explain themselves before he forced them to.

“Never you mind, Sergeant Barnes.” Fury was a looming force in front of him, blocking out Tony and Sam and everyone else standing behind. “For right now, we need you focused on Steve. We’ve got a plan to save him and with your help we can –”

Bucky just looked at him, lip curling slowly into a demented snarl. Fury was up against the wall before he could blink his one good eye. Bucky hadn’t even thought about it, hadn’t commanded his legs to move nor his arms to swing. But he hadn’t argued either. He sat back and let the colder side of him, the Winter Solider side of him, call the shots with only light commentary.

“I’ll ask again.” His voice was low and menacing and scary calm. “What was that?” He nodded his head towards the screen. “And what the hell are you keeping from me?”

He could physically _feel_ their reluctance. It weighed upon him like a cloud, bending his head and making his shoulder droop.

“Now!” His fingers dug fractionally into Fury’s throat. He didn’t _think_ he was going to kill Fury, but then again it might make them more willing to explain.

“We were looking at your DNA,” Tony blurted, almost against his will. When the room turned to look at him, he shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest and bringing the screens back up. “What? We were. That serum packs a punch, I gotta say. Changed your genes and everything. Very interesting.”

Bucky lightened his grip on Fury’s throat. “What else?”

Tony stiffened. “There’s nothing else.”

Bucky thought about how nice it would be to crush Fury’s windpipe beneath his hand.

“James, please.” Natasha was beside him, voice soft and easy. “There’s something we have to talk to you about.”

“And it would go a lot smoother if you put down the Director.” Clint was a few steps behind her, watching Bucky calmly. Bucky found his gaze and stared, waiting for him to blink. When he didn’t, Bucky grunted and let Fury down, listening to the collective sigh of relief that followed.

“You might want to sit down.” Natasha moved back to a couch not far from one of Stark’s screens.

Bucky ignored her and moved to stand right beside Tony, rather enjoying the little noise he made as he scrambled backwards away from him.

“What the hell is this?” He pointed to the curlicue strand of DNA.

Tony dropped his head into his hands. “Oh Lord.”

Bucky shot him a dark glare. “I know _what_ it is.” His handlers had explained it one time while he was out, showing him his own DNA painted red and black, HYDRA colors. He pointed to a strand of yellow, flashing and glowing on Stark’s screen. “What’s this?”

“That’s the part of your DNA the serum changed.” Bruce moved forward cautiously, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Made it unstable, allowed room for more growth and such.”

“Mhmm.” That was easy enough to follow. 

“Steve’s formula was the original formula so his genes aren’t half as bad.” Bruce pointed at the screen, brushing half the yellow dots away. “Only some of his gene pairs are unstable, so if he were to ever have children there’s less of a chance that they would get the unstable chromosomes.”

“Whoa, whoa.” Bucky backed up, holding his metal hand out toward the good doctor. “Why are we talking about kids all of the sudden? Steve’s a 90 something year-old-virgin. I don’t think he even knows what sex _is_. Children are definitely not in his future.”

And that’s where the conversation took a turn for the worst.

The room turned to look at him with that half-pitying look he’d seen so many times when Steve was sick. It was a dead look. There was absolutely no feeling behind it. And if there was, it was forced and fake.

Seeing it now, on the faces of Steve’s friends when they talked about _his_ DNA made it just that much worse.

“This is the hard part,” Natasha breathed and he raised an eyebrow in her direction.

“Son, listen.” Fury approached slowly with Agent Hill at his side, draining a glass of water while massaging his throat. “Now is not the time for idle chitchat.”

“Are you really not going to tell me?” Bucky glared at him. “After what I just did to you, you still don’t wanna tell me?”

Fury looked at Bucky, unfazed. “I’ve had worse.”

“You will if you don’t tell me what the hell’s going on.”

Agent Hill tensed behind Fury’s shoulder and Bucky smiled at her, baring his teeth.

“Maybe we shouldn’t tell him.” Tony spoke at the same time Sam did. “He has a right to know.”

“What’s up with you, bird brain?” Tony scowled in Sam’s direction. “Since when are you on Team Bucky?”

Sam grit his teeth. “I’m not on _Team Bucky_ ,” he said as viciously as possible.

Stark bobbed his head like he understood. “So you’re with the kid then?”

_The kid?_ Bucky thought. _Robyn?_

Sam rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest with a disgusted look. “She has a name, Stark,” he said, tipping his chin up. “And yes. I’m with _Robyn_.”

“What about her?” Bucky tried very hard not to sound as crazy as he felt. “What does any of this have to do with her?”

“Penny in the air,” Nat muttered, low under her breath.

“Everything,” Bruce said, the only person in the room who could look Bucky in the eye.

“Why?” Bucky wanted to move but his head was screaming, ripping itself apart as the one truth, the one solid truth Robyn had hinted at and he had guessed and Steve had probably known, came rushing up to smack him in the face with its sure solidarity.

Bruce took off his glasses and slid them into the pocket of his shirt.

“She’s your granddaughter.”

*

“So you want to know about me and Bucky, Robyn? Well, there’s not much to tell, to be honest. Nothing ‘cept the fact that I used to think the sun rose and set on him. Still do, to be honest. He was the first friend I ever had, the best friend, the _only_ friend I ever had. You don’t wanna know how we met. It was stupid and childish and we were both little bean sprout things trying to prove themselves on the school playground.

“Day after that, he came up to me after school, watched me struggle under the weight of my book bag with the coolest expression on his little-boy face. After a minute, he reached down and took my bag from me, just like that. I tried to stop him, I swear I did, but he just looked at me and said, ‘My name’s Bucky. And I’m gonna keep you.’

“Don’t laugh. I know, I know, it’s stupid. He was treating me like a lost pet or something, a kicked puppy or whatever. I asked him about it several times when we were older, but he swore he didn’t know where it came from. But yeah. That’s how it started, and that’s kind of how it still is. Was. Could still be. I don’t know.

“Anyway, so uh, my feelings for him were friendly at first, but then they changed into . . . something different. – don’t look at me like that, Robyn, it makes me very uncomfortable. And don’t laugh either! God, you’re making this story worse than it is.

“Okay. Okayyyyy. So, friends then not. And there were times, lots of times actually, were I would’ve sworn he felt the same. I’ve especially got this one memory of me and him in bed together – STOP LAUGHING – and I remember warmth and whiskey and nothing else. I think he kissed me. I might’ve kissed him back. Probably not though. I really was scared of him. Not _scared_ scared, but . . . I was afraid he would reject me and toss me out on my ass.

“He left unhappy, you know. To this day that is my one and only regret about the time we spent together before the war. I’m sure you know the story. I went to the fair with Bucky, I saw the recruitment poster, he tried to talk me out of it, and we went our separate ways, Erskine recruited me, blah blah blah.

“Well, here’s the other part of it. Bucky had already sold his apartment so we were sharing one at that time. I thought Buck was going to be out a whole later than he was though, so when I got back I didn’t bother to hide the paper. I mean, God, it’s so stupid but yeah he _walked in_ and I was staring at the paper, grinning at the little 1A down in the corner. He was all smiles and booze, carrying on and carrying on. Acted like he’d had the best damn time, but I know he didn’t. He told me later that he snuck out, left the girls early just to come back and see me.

“Anyway, so he walks in and I’m reading the paper and I freaking jumped – yeah I know, guilty as heck, shoot me – and he immediately goes to grab the paper just to see what it was. Knowing him, he probably thought it was some sleazy photo. But then he read it and . . . well, he wasn’t happy.

“He sat down and got real quiet, read it three, four times before he even looked up. And when he did . . . man was he _pissed_.

“‘Are you kidding me, Steve?’ he yelled. ‘You trying to get yourself killed or something?!’ ‘Course he wouldn’t listen to me when I tried to explain, tried to say that I couldn’t very well stay behind, not while everyone was shipping off. Man, he was so angry. I don’t think I’d ever seen him that angry ever. And I haven’t seen it since. You think Bucky’s scary now, picture that versus little skinny me. I thought . . . I actually thought he was gonna kill me. Stupid, I know, but . . .

“Anyway, he did this thing we used to do when we were kids. He grabbed my wrists and pinned me down and sat on me until I changed my mind. No, yeah, I know. You can laugh, but that’s what he did when we were kids. Even threatened to tie me up one time until I calmed down. That was when Johnny Marbles made a crack at my Pa. I attacked that sucker and well . . . I had him on the ropes. No, Bucky did not save my ass, Robyn . . . Okay. Maybe he did.

“So yeah. Where was I? Oh. He sat on me. Almost choked me to death, but he was very careful. I was yelling at him – wheezing more like – and he was yelling at me and we were just, God, it was awful. Then my chest started hurting and I couldn’t breathe and –

“. . . Sorry. I still have nightmares about that sometimes. About not being able to breathe, or run, or do anything. It was . . . well, I suppose it would be better now, what with all your world’s modern healthcare. But back then . . . well, back then I was just kind of waiting to die. I don’t think I consciously thought I was going to die, but some part of me, some deep part of my subconscious woke up every day ready to die.

“No, no, I’m fine Robyn. The nightmares . . . they’re not so bad anymore. I promise. Hey, look at me. I’m fine. Really.

“So he sat me up and rubbed my chest and then . . . Why are you looking at me like that? I am not blushing! Robyn, I am _not_ blushing! Yes, he kissed me, alright. It was hard and hot and . . . STOP IT! I am quite aware that you could fry an egg on my face right now, Robyn. Not quite sure you would want to though.

“But yeah. He kissed me and then he started crying. Big fat tears and big fat sobs. He just  . . . he didn’t want to leave. And he didn’t want me to leave. He didn’t want to die and he didn’t want to see me die. It was a bad situation all around.

“And then we went to sleep. And when I woke up, he was gone. Just like that.

“I never did get to tell him about Erskine’s formula or the special program they were putting me in. So he was quite brutally surprised when I showed up a couple months later, all big and tall and manly, his words not mine. He said . . . well, he said I finally had a body to fit my heart. Yeah, I know I’m blushing Robyn. But he . . . he always had a way with words. Me, I had my drawings. You and I are alike that way. We work better with some kind of medium but he . . .

“Anyway. He’ll never admit it, but . . . he was jealous. Those first couple weeks, after I helped him out of that HYDRA base, he was jealous. Not of me. No. I think he was happy for me, glad I didn’t have problems breathing anymore and whatever. But no. He was jealous of all the attention I was getting. I mean, it seemed everyone and his brother wanted to be friends with _Captain America_ and Bucky was getting pushed to the side.

“But here’s the part he doesn’t know: Bucky always comes first to me. I don’t care if the President himself wants a piece of Captain Rogers, Bucky gets me first. STOP IT, ROBYN! I DID NOT MEAN IT LIKE A COME ON! This century, I just don’t understand it.

“So yeah. He was jealous because he didn’t want to share me – yes I know this sounds absolute terrible, but I’ve known the kid since I was little and even though I’m not half as good at reading Bucky as he is at reading me, I know his jealous face – but he forgot he didn’t have to because I was always his. He’s such a dumbass sometimes. That’s why I call him the stupid one.

“But I don’t know what I’m doing, Robyn. I really don’t.

“I think I . . . I think I love him. I think I have always loved him and I will always love him and even when I was head over heels for Agent Carter I was still in love with him.

“He was all I had in life. Not anymore, of course. I’ve got friends. I’ve got Nat and Clint and, well, now I’ve got you. But . . . Bucky’s more than that. He will always be my greatest friend and my deepest love.

“Shut up. I know it’s corny. You don’t have to tell me that. I felt this way when I was sixteen years old, Robyn, I’ve known for quite some time now that I am the sappiest sap there is.

“Wait, hold up. What’s going on? You can’t just take her like that! Get off of her! Leave her alone! Don’t touch her! DON’T YOU DARE TOUCH HER! Bucky’s coming for her and if you hurt even one hair on her head – No! NO! ROBYN!

“. . . I’m so sorry, Robyn.”

*

Bucky was never more grateful for the presence of the Winter Soldier. When Robyn and Steve’s captor sent the second transmission with their location, he was able to remain calm enough to take it down and assemble a team to go in and extract them. Well, maybe not calm. He was pissed. He was a pissed, red-hot mess, yelling at anyone and everyone and snapping at those who came to close.

He gave orders and grabbed weapons, suited up and got his shots lined up. He even got Tony Stark to get in his damn suit – on the threat of having his spine shoved into the squishier parts of his lower abdomen – and managed to get Thor in for back up. He’d been in Asgard this whole freaking time and Bucky was going to throttle that blonde demigod cause he was off macking on his girlfriend while Steve was held hostage and oh my fucking God Bucky was going to kill of them.

Everyone in his path was a target; the SHIELD agents frantically scrambling around him, the other Avengers gearing up for the big fight. Everything that moved and had a pulse was a target for Bucky and he had to remind himself several times that killing a poor sap behind a computer would not make his rescue go any faster.

But while the Winter Soldier was making arrangements, Bucky was thinking about Robyn. About the way she’d looked at him in the car the other night, about her face when he’d told her he trusted her, about his deep and sudden compassion for a girl he barely knew.

“Granddaughter.” He mumbled to himself, metal hand clenching and unclenching into a tightly packed fist. “Granddaughter.”

“Technically she’s your great-granddaughter.” Bruce’s voice floated in and out of his head, replaying the conversation they had shared earlier. “We managed to get a blood sample while Fury was interrogating her and compared it with yours – which we got while you were in the medical wing.” The doctor shrugged sheepishly. “Sorry.”

“This isn’t a good time, Doctor.” Fury was looking at Bucky, trying to do some much needed damage control. “Barnes has more than enough on his plate –”

“Granddaughter.” Bucky wanted to cry and laugh and collapse into a little puddle of piss and surprise all at once. “Fucking granddaughter.”

“We should throw you a baby shower,” Tony suggested.

Bucky nearly took off his head.

When he’d calmed down – and after Natasha had safely escorted Tony out of the room with more than a few colorful expletives – Bucky sat down on the couch not far from Bruce, massaging his temples with cold, shivering fingers.

“She’s got the same genetic markup you do.” Bruce was still talking, explaining something to Bucky while he tried to wrap his head around the concept. “Her genes are significantly more unstable than yours though. Might explain the whole detail with her father and her accelerated healing.” Bruce slid a look in Bucky’s direction. “After all, you’ve knocked her down quite a few times in the past couple of days and she’s still walking. Pretty impressive if you ask me.”

“You said it was unstable.” Bucky finally looked up, dark hair hanging limply around his face. “She said the same thing.”

Bruce’s mouth twisted like he’d sucked on a sour lemon. “That’s the part we don’t know much about.”

“She said her father died.” Bucky’s mouth was moving, but there was some kind of disconnect between his brain and his lips. He was asking about Robyn’s DNA when all he really wanted to be doing was screaming, asking Bruce exactly how long he’d known about this and just why Fury thought it was a good idea to keep it from him. “She said it killed him.”

Bruce’s head tipped forward a little. “Due to the unstable nature of the genes, there were bound to be some . . . complications.”

“I killed him.” Bucky closed his eyes. “My genes killed him. And now I’m going to kill her.”

He managed to yank his head out of his ass by the time they reached the old hotel building where Steve and Robyn were being held. In the lobby, there was a frightened teen behind the desk, crying with a sign strapped across his chest. _Roof and Basement_ it said. _May the best candidate survive._

He almost lost it right there. He did rip the sign in half though, tossed it into the street for several racing cars to run over it. He then took a deep breath, trying to get his anger under control while Tony and the other Avengers stared at him with wide eyes.

“I’ve got the roof.” Bucky worked better in open spaces. He was already so close to breaking, going in the basement would just make everything worse. “Nat and Clint, you guys sweep the floors with the SHIELD team, make sure there’s no other hostages. If there are, get them out as quickly as possible.”

They nodded and took the stairs, obeying Bucky as easily as they did Steve. He knew he was stepping into Steve’s shoes, filling the power vacuum Captain America usually occupied, but he didn’t care. When Steve was safe and sitting next to him, Bucky would explain that he hadn’t meant to take over, hadn’t mean to undermine his authority or whatever. Not that Steve would think that. More than anything, he would probably be proud of Bucky.

 “Tony get the basement.” He snapped at the big metal dick. “I’ll head to the roof.”

“Backup’s incoming.” Tony reminded him. “Thor will meet you on the roof as soon as he gets here.”

“And Agent Hill will head to the basement.” Bucky nodded. He turned to look at Tony, narrowing his eyes sharply. “Whoever’s down there, you make sure they’re okay and then you get them the hell out of there. Fuck up and I’m blaming you, Stark.”

Stark mock saluted him. “Yessir.”

Bucky slammed the call elevator button with his fist, enjoying the spark and wrenching sound it made as it broke. The elevator slid to a stop and opened its doors and Bucky stepped inside, swinging his rifle around to his front. He planted his feet in a wide stance, baring his teeth in a growl as the elevator ascended towards the roof.

He knew who was going to be beyond the doors before they opened.

“Robyn,” he muttered as the elevator slid to a stop. He thought of the first time they’d met, in the Avengers tower after the long elevator ride Bucky had suffered to try and find Steve. “Of course it’s her.”

And he was not disappointed.

The doors opened and Bucky stepped out onto the roof, a nice patio set up with a pool set into the floor. Across the crystalline water, Bucky saw Robyn, squirming in her captor’s grip.

She stopped when she saw him and her mouth fell open.

“BUCKY!” she screamed and his heart jerked. “BUCKY, NO!”

“Ahh, Mr. Barnes.” An old face peered out over Robyn’s shoulder, teeth yellowed with age and face lined with wrinkles. “Glad you could make it.”

“Let her go.” Bucky moved towards them slowly, snarling as the face behind Robyn gradually took a familiar form. “You.”

“Me.” It was Mr. Levi, Robyn’s landlord. Bucky was surprised he remembered his face, but then he recalled the way he’d slid Robyn behind him, the sure thought that Mr. Levi was going to bring a shotgun out of his apartment and try to strike them both down. He wouldn’t have forgotten that easily. Although he might have been wrong about the shotgun, it seemed Bucky was right about the hostile air of the man.

His grip was surprisingly strong as he dragged Robyn forward, lining his body up behind hers. He grinned at Bucky, holding a small black pistol to her head. He traced it down her throat and back up, tucking it just behind her chin.

Robyn tensed, face streaked with tears. He assessed her slowly, tracing his eye over some new healing wounds and the old ones he’d left on her skin. Mr. Levi had his hand fisted in her hair and Bucky could see some blood tracing down from her scalp. She was wearing a bloodied pink dress, but as he looked Bucky saw that the blood wasn’t hers. It was old and dried and came off in crusty rust flakes.

She met his eyes, blue eyes burning with fear and something else. Was that . . . shame? Disappointment? Bucky could only guess why she felt that way.

“What do you want with her?” The Winter Soldier was snarling, snapping inside him. He wanted to shoot the bastard and be done with it. As Bucky talked, his urges got stronger and more violent until Bucky was having a hard time seeing straight through all his bloodlust.

“With her?” Mr. Levi shook her slightly and she cringed, closing his eyes. “I have no quarrel with Miss Robyn.”

Bucky closed his eyes briefly, anger flushing through every cell in his body. “Me. Your problem is with me.”

“Correct.” Mr. Levi flashed him a crooked smile.

“Do I even want to know why?” Bucky snapped, pulling his rifle up. He aimed it directly between Mr. Levi’s eyes, watching Robyn’s face pale.

But Mr. Levi just smiled. “You might.”

“Don’t shoot.” Robyn closed her eyes. Mr. Levi had one hand in her hair and another wrapped around her chest, pressing the gun just under her chin. She had both hands on the arm around her chest, struggling futilely to push it off her. “God, please.” Her voice was flush with tears and that only made Bucky madder, made his finger itch on the trigger. “Please, _please_ don’t shoot.”

“Care to explain, dear?” Mr. Levi leered into her ear. “Or shall I?”

“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t kill you right now.” Bucky tightened his grip on the gun, ignoring Robyn’s desperate, pleading expression. “And it better not because I might miss ‘cause I’m telling you, I won’t.” _I’m a goddamn sniper_ , he thought. _And your head makes for an easy target._

Mr. Levi shook Robyn in his grasp. She tugged at his arm with white knuckles until he stilled opening her eyes to glare at Bucky.

“Don’t shoot, please,” she gasped. “Shoot me, not him! Please, Buck!”

“What?” Bucky lowered his rifle just a fraction. “What are you talking about?”

Mr. Levi cleared his throat and began speaking, dragging Robyn over to the edge of the pool. “Twenty years ago, my wife was running for governor of New York. My daughter was helping her campaign. They were staying here, in the city, right in this very building actually.”

“I really don’t care,” Bucky snarled.

“Oh, but you do.” Mr. Levi’s smile was harsh and vicious. “I was in the hotel room. Got two phone calls from police. The first told me my wife was dead. The second, my daughter.”

Bucky met Robyn’s eyes quickly, then looked away.

“But here’s the kicker, Mr. _Barnes_ ,” Mr. Levi hissed. “I know who you really are. HYDRA told me everything. You’re that damned assassin.”

“The Winter Soldier,” Bucky breathed. He was almost surprised his breathe didn’t come out in white puffs. Everything around him, his chest, his nose, even the ends of his hair felt stiff and frozen with the soldier’s cold rage.

“I did some research after their deaths. Neither one of their killers were caught. As you might have guessed, my wife died in the building’s basement while my daughter died here on this roof.” He let go of Robyn’s hair to stroke his hand down her front. “In this very dress, actually. Like it?”

Robyn shuddered.

“You sick bastard.” Bucky snapped his gun back up, but Mr. Levi wasn’t done.

“Now there are some reasons the old HYDRA would have wanted them dead. Some beliefs of my daughter’s, some policies of my wife. I joined up with HYDRA to learn more about their deaths.”

Bucky’s lip curled. “Did you?”

Mr. Levi nodded with an odd, lilting smile. “I learned that you _were_ sent out that day, but you only had one target. To this day, I have not found out which one of them you murdered.”

Bucky’s stomach sank. “Oh shit,” he breathed, too low for Mr. Levi to hear.

But he did anyway and the grin that crawled across his old wrinkly face was hellish. “You guessed my plan?”

“Look, I don’t know, okay?” Bucky almost dropped the gun. All the cold, all the power of the Winter Soldier deserted him as he realized. “I don’t fucking know.”

“I want to know which one you killed,” Mr. Levi continued, ignoring Bucky’s outburst. “And what better way to find out than to have you tell me.” He smiled cruelly, looking down at Robyn. “Or show me, rather.”

“You’re sick.” Bucky shook his head. “I was brainwashed, okay? I don’t know. I don’t know anything.”

“This started out as a mission for HYDRA, you know.” Mr. Levi’s tone was almost conversational. “I was supposed to kidnap Steven Rogers, drain his blood, and send samples back to the HYDRA lab.”

“What do you want with his blood?” Bucky tried to ask but the old man just shook his head.

“But it wasn’t until you two came to me after I’d kidnapped Steve that I realized I had everything I needed to make you suffer.” Mr. Levi yanked on Robyn’s hair, forcing her head back and exposing her neck. Bucky’s hand tightened on his gun, but he didn’t fire. “Just one look.” Mr. Levi walked back from the edge of the pool to a wire table nearby, picking up a small black phone and holding it to his ear. “And I knew exactly who you were and who Robyn was to you.”

“Which is nothing!” Robyn said through gritted teeth. “I’m nothing to him, you crazy old bat. Agh!”

“Shut up!” Mr. Levi kicked the back of her knee, holding her hair to keep her up. She bit her lip, crying out and avoiding Bucky’s eyes. She slowly stood back up, knees wobbling, with one hand reaching to cup the back of her head. “Not true, Robyn. So you might as well just keep quiet from now on. Okay, dear?

“So,” he continued. “You now have a choice, Mr. Barnes.” He held the phone up, waving it with the tips of his fingers. “I’ve taken the two people most important to you and put their lives on the line. Steve is your . . .” he trailed off, looking around for the words. “Well, he’s your lover, your friend, your _one and only_. Just as my wife was to me.”

“And Robyn.” He jerked on her hair again and she cried out for real, biting her lip hard. “Robyn is your daughter.” The old man’s mouth twitched around a sharp smile. “Not quite, but close enough, wouldn’t you say?”

“You’re wrong.” Robyn struggled to spit the words out. “I’m not his anything, okay? You’ve failed, okay? Just let Steve go.”

“So now you choose.” He wrapped his arm back around Robyn’s neck, holding the phone out where Bucky could see it. He held a gun to Robyn’s head with the other, safety off and finger resting on the trigger. “Who lives and who dies. But it’s not just any random choice. Oh no, sir. You choose based on who you killed twenty years ago.”

Bucky was shaking his head before the old man finished talking. “I don’t know. I don’t know, okay? I really don’t.”

Mr. Levi’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t believe you.”

“Levi? That’s your name, right? Or did you change it?” Bucky was scrambling, falling apart even as the Winter Solider tried to reclaim control, breathing cold life into Bucky’s lungs.

“Fairweather.” Mr. Levi’s eyes were bright. “That was our name.”

“It’s familiar, okay?” It really wasn’t but Bucky wasn’t going to tell him that. “But I don’t know. I don’t know who I killed, really.”

“I’m not anything to him.” Robyn was gasping, eyes squeezed tight against the pain. “Please, Mr. Levi, I’m not –”

“Robyn.” Bucky cleared his throat, waiting until she looked at him. “I know,” he said softly, staring into her eyes – his eyes – with a tenderness Bucky thought he might never feel again. “I know.”

She took a shaky breath and looked away, breathing slowly in and out of her mouth. “No,” she tried shaking her head, but Mr. Levi’s fist was too tight in her hair. “Oh shit.”

“It’s okay, Robyn. It’s okay.” Bucky tried really hard to ignore her captor and focus just on Robyn, talking to her and only her. “It’s going to be okay. I know. I know, and I –”

“That shouldn’t change your choice!” She turned back to him, glaring furiously.

“What?” Bucky shook his head. “Robyn, I don’t –”

“Steve needs to live, okay?” She looked at him, new tears tracing down her cheeks. “He’s your . . . he’s your _everything_! He’s your best friend and you’ve been caring for him since you were little and it wouldn’t make sense for you to throw all of that away over some girl you don’t even know!”

“I can’t kill you,” Bucky whispered with a pained voice. “I just can’t. You’re my –”

“It doesn’t matter!” she screamed, almost hysterical. “He’s Steve Rogers. He’s Captain fucking America. You really going to let him die, let a national icon die over some weird girl?”

“That’s not –” Her argument was sound. It was logical and complete, but Bucky didn’t want to listen.

“That’s not how he chooses!” Mr. Levi tried to intervene, but Robyn was still screaming, glaring at Bucky with hollowed eyes.

“I’m going to die anyway, Bucky! Remember what I said! My genes are unstable! You save me and I’ll be dead in the next few months anyway. So pick Steve. Let him live ‘cause God knows you need him more than you need me.” She looked away, chest heaving, crying in earnest now.

“Robyn . . .” She was right. She was right and Bucky wanted so desperately for her not to be because he didn’t want her to die.

But the thought of Steve dying was even worse. He couldn’t let Steve die. Not after everything they’d been through. Not after all the turmoil and heartache he suffered over the poor kid. It just . . . it wouldn’t be right to let him die in the place of some nobody girl.

But he didn’t want to kill Robyn either. Couldn’t sentence her to death because he loved Steve more than his own kin.

There was no good choice. No matter the call Bucky made, a part of him was going to die. A part of his soul was crumbling, falling away before Bucky could stop it. And just when he’d thought everything was going to be okay. Just when he’d gotten his memory back and found Steve and even got a kid in the bargain.

He was James Buchanan Barnes. And if half the stuff he’d read about himself, half the stuff he remembered about himself, were true then he deserved a happily ever after.

But it seemed the world wasn’t ready to give it to him.

“You have thirty seconds.” Mr. Levi was growing impatient. “Then I kill them both.”

“How are you going to kill Steve from all the way up here?” Bucky was stalling, looking around for anything that might help him avoid the choice that lay ahead of him.

“You may not know much about this century’s technology, Mr. Barnes.” He waved the phone again. “But you must know that a good soldier never takes on these kind of missions alone.”

_Dammit, Tony_ , he thought. _I hope your sorry metallic ass is okay_.

“Now choose.” The old man snarled. “Robyn or Steve.”

“I –” Bucky licked his lips and looked away. “I can’t choose. Please, I can’t!” He was _this close_ to lowering his rifle and tossing himself in the line of fire. “Do you want me to beg? ‘Cause I’m begging. Please don’t kill them. Please!

“Make the choice.” There was no remorse in the old man’s eyes. “Or I will make it for you.”

_No, no, no, NO!_ The Winter Soldier was howling. It seemed he was torn between the same conflicting emotions Bucky was. He wanted Robyn to live almost as much as he wanted Steve to live. With a jolt, Bucky realized he cared for them both. The deadly, dangerous part of him that wanted nothing but cold and death and destruction actually cared for them. It was a humbling thought.

“Bucky.” Robyn was sobbing, drawing shaky inhales on the end of her gasps. She looked to him, eyes red and bleary. “Bucky, look at me.”

He did, but found he really, _really_ didn’t want to. Her eyes were so bright, burning with righteousness like Steve’s sometimes did and he almost had to look away.

She took another shaky inhale and smiled lightly, one corner of her mouth tugging up. “You know,” she began, working hard to force her voice down to something resembling calm. “I never really liked bikinis. I wouldn’t be sad if I never had to wear them again.”

Something inside Bucky’s brain snapped. His eyes opened wide and his hand tightened around his rifle even as the human part of him, the sane non-Winter Soldier part of him started screaming.

“I prefer a good one-piece, myself.” Her eyes were so damn bright, stunning Bucky’s eyes whenever he looked at her. She tipped her head in his direction, mouth slanting back down. “You get me?”

“No,” he breathed, even as he lifted the rifle. “Oh fuck no.”

“What’s going on?” Mr. Levi’s hand tightened around the pistol. “Have you made your choice?”

“It’s okay, Bucky.” Robyn sniffed, nodding at him encouragingly. “It’s okay. I’ll be fine.”

“No.” Bucky wasn’t in control anymore. The Winter Soldier had heard Robyn and, after realizing that Bucky was a hopeless piece of emotional deadweight, had taken over and was now piloting the vessel they shared. He aimed the gun, clicked the safety off, and rested his finger on the trigger. “Oh, no, Robyn. No.”

“It’s okay.” She smiled at him then squeezed her eyes shut, looking away. “Just do it.”

“What?” Mr. Levi backed a few steps away from Bucky, going almost to the edge of the roof. “What is he –?”

The Winter Soldier fired before he could get another word out.

And that was the end of that.

Mr. Levi fell backward, mouth open and floundering as a red flower of fresh, new blood bloomed down the front of Robyn’s dress. The gun dropped from his hand first, then the phone. Bucky watched it shatter on the hard stone patio, watched the gun slid into the pool water with the smallest of splashes.

Bucky thought it was over. He lowered his gun, shucking it off his shoulder and tossing it into the water after Mr. Levi’s pistol. The cold faded from his fingers, retreated to the safety of his belly and formed a hard knot near his heart. Bucky took two steps towards the stumbling pair, watching in horror as Mr. Levi tried one last time to make Bucky suffer.

“BUCKY!” Robyn screamed as Mr. Levi moved backwards, falling back over the rooftop railing.

“NO!” he screamed, running forward.

He reached down blindly, metal hand groping in the air until it found something, yanking it up into his arms.

“Robyn,” he breathed.

She was shivering, coughing, and crying in his arms as his metal arm wrapped tightly around her waist. Bucky stood them up and peered carefully over the railing watching with a feeling of twisted satisfaction as Mr. Levi hit the ground twenty-seven floors beneath them.

“Shit,” Robyn was sighing, struggling in his arms until he let go of her. “Shit, shit, shit.”

“You’re bleeding.” It was the only thing Bucky could think to say.

She barely spared him a glance. “No shit, Sherlock.” She sniffed, crying big fat tears that trickled down her face at an alarmingly fast pace. She moved her shaky hands down, finding the buttons on the bloodied pink dress she was wearing and tearing them open one by one. “Get this off me,” she breathed, face twisting in pain as more and more blood coated the front of the dress. “Get this damn thing –” She sighed one more time and crumpled, passing out with her hands propped against Bucky’s chest.

“Okay,” he breathed, ripping the dress off of her with one clean movement. He then tied the dress around her waist, trying to stem the flow of blood from her wound. “Okay.”

_Granddaughter_ , he thought as the backup arrived, circling around the rooftop in SHIELD helicopters until they deemed it safe enough to land. _Twenty-six years old and I’ve got a kid who’s almost as old as I am. My life is fucked up._

But when he carried Robyn onto the helicopter and saw who was sitting across from him, his broad form wrapped in a grey shock blanket, his life didn’t seem half as bad anymore.

“Steve.”

“Bucky.”

_It’ll be okay_. He moved forward without preamble, Robyn curled into his chest and laid a big one right on Steve’s mouth, like he’d been wanting to ever since he got his memories back.

_It’ll be okay._


	7. But I Saved You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truth is revealed about Robyn's past and Bucky kind of loses it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sup everyone.  
> Thanks for all the lovely comments you guys are the best. Here's some need to know info for the next couple chapters:  
> Smut (a little bit) in next chapter i think just to let you know . . .  
> remember how i was talking about a sequel? Yeah, I think I'm just gonna do one big thing. Just in case you wanted to know.  
> Kay. onwardsssss

Sitting there at Steve’s bedside while he slowly regained consciousness felt strange to Bucky. Familiar and haunting in a terrible, terrible way. Then he remembered.

The war. After Steve had rescued him from HYDRA. Their situation then had been similar only, Bucky had been the one lying on the hospital bed, scared shitless because his best friend had been transformed into some giant blonde _attractive_ monster.

*

He remembered making it out of the factory. He remembered Zola and Schmidt and the scary ass Red Thing behind Schmidt’s regular-looking face. He remembered Steve shouting and him tight-roping across a thin piece of metal over hellish explosions. And he remembered when it fell, when he stared longingly after it, and when he thought he was going to lose Steve again so soon after he’d found him.

“There’s got to be a rope or something!” He shouted, hands clenching into white-knuckled fists around the catwalk’s railing.

“Just go!” Steve waved at him, gesturing to the door with his shield. “Get out of here!”

“No! Not without you!”

Not without you. He’d said those words before. He’d whispered them to Steve when he was lying in a hospital bed, hacking up a lung with his heart just barely beating. But now Steve was big and strong and it seemed Bucky still couldn’t save him.

He remembered Steve’s look of pain, his daring jump across the wide fiery gap that separated them. And he remembered Steve falling, hand outstretched just inches from the bar.

But he didn’t remember catching him.

So when he opened his eyes, lying on the ground in some makeshift medic tent with an IV stuck in his arm, he freaked when he saw Steve in front of him.

“Buck?” Steve was leaning on a barrel not far from him, shoulders hunched and head down. He started to lift it when he saw Bucky stirring, blinking sleepily with those blue eyes Bucky knew so well.

“What the fuck.” Bucky couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything but stare at Steve as he slowly came closer, all big and tall and so not like the Steve he remembered. “What. The. Fuck.”

“It’s me, Buck.” Steve stopped beside him, hunching his shoulders again as he made it to Bucky’s side. “It’s really me.”

There should’ve been a smile on his face. Something, anything besides the dead expression he was wearing.

“Jesus fuck,” Bucky breathed when Steve swayed forward, head landing in Bucky’s lap. “Steve? Hey. HEY!”

“I’m okay.” He mumbled into the blanket draped around Bucky’s legs. “Just sleepy . . .”

His voice trailed off, dropping into silence, head still buried in Bucky’s lap. Steve’s improtu nap turned out to be one of the best things for Bucky. It gave him time to inspect this new body of Steve’s without having him looking on, desperate for approval and recognition. He traced his hands over the back of his neck, the soft spot Bucky loved to breathe into when he and Steve took naps to conserve heat. He found his heart, pressed his thumb over Steve’s pulse, feeling it beat hard and steady beneath him. He listened to his lungs, to the clear sound they made as Steve breathed in and out.

It was him. Holy fuck it was him.

He was healthy as shit and so fucking attractive that it made Bucky’s heart hurt just looking at him. But it was him.

Fucking Steve Rogers. Finally had a body to match his too big heart.

A couple of the fellas he’d been imprisoned with stopped by to visit. They laughed when they saw Captain America asleep on Bucky’s lap, but their eyes were soft.

“Man saved my ass,” Dum-Dum said, nodding his head at the big hunk of man-meat Steve had become. “He’s a hero in my eyes.”

“It’s good to see he sleeps like a regular person though.” Morita laughed. “He’s like a goddamn god on the battlefield.”

Bucky remembered being jealous at first. Steve was his and these assholes had no right to laugh with him and carry on like they were friends. But then he listened to their stories of what exactly Steve had done to save them and heard the respect layered in their voices.

 _They can stay_ , he thought, running a hand through Steve’s hair as he slept and Bucky healed. _But he’s mine first. My Steve. My Captain America._

They were all alone when Steve woke, slowly lifting his head up from Bucky’s lap and rubbing his eyes. “Buck?” he blinked, and suddenly he was the skinny kid form Brooklyn again, waking up from a nap with a flush on his cheeks and sleep in his eyes.

“Hey, sleepyhead.” Bucky grinned, grabbing onto the back of Steve’s neck and drawing him in for the biggest, squishiest hug he’d ever given the kid. “You goddamn pyscho,” he whispered when Steve returned the hug, folding his big muscly arms around Bucky to squeeze him tight. “I thought you were safe in Brooklyn and what do I know, you’re here in a big man body fighting alongside the rest of us.”

“I had to save you, Buck.” Steve smiled, his face splitting into the biggest, healthiest grin Bucky had ever seen him wear. “To make up for all those times you saved me.”

“We saved each other,” Bucky corrected and Steve’s smile got even bigger.

“Hey, Captain?”

“Hmm?”

“Don’t think I’m just gonna start laying down and listening to your orders now that you’re all big and fancy. You may outrank me, you big hunk of muscle, but you’re still just a reckless little kid, and I’m gonna want to hear those plans of yours before you start making them.”

Steve smiled and Bucky smiled back and everything that was wrong and twisted about the whole fucking war kind of faded away until it was just Steve and him.

“Yessir,” Steve said, saluting him and Bucky laughed, grabbing his hand and tossing it away.

“I ain’t saluting you, either.” Bucky puffed his chest out. “I’m about to be the surliest, most annoying, most goddamn protective insubordinate you’ve ever had, Captain.”

And the moron just smiled. “I’m glad.”

*

This reunion was much sweeter, in Bucky’s opinion.

“You’re here,” Steve breathed into Bucky’s neck, looping his arms around him in an unending hug. “You’re actually here.”

“Sure am, pal.” Bucky found that little spot on the back of Steve’s neck and breathed into it, letting the sense of home and heat and _Steve_ wash over him. “Sure am.”

But Steve had so many questions. “How did you find us? How did you find SHIELD? Why didn’t you come to me earlier? How’d you break their programming? How –”

Bucky didn’t have all the answers, of course. But he did have a few.

“You broke the programming, knucklehead.” He smiled crookedly, hooking his arm around Steve’s neck. “The moment you said my name on that bridge, I was a lost cause for sure.”

Steve’s face lit up like a fucking sunshine.

He was in the hospital three days. That was some kind of record for super-solider Steve. He never needed treatment. _Never_. If he broke his arm, he set it himself and it healed within 48 hours. A deep knife-wound on his side? It wasn’t there by the end of the day.

But this. This was more than Bucky had ever seen.

“I’m fine, Buck,” he mumbled, coughing as the nurses stuck a cannula up his nose and tampered with his IV feed. “Really.”

Bucky sat at his side, holding his hand and stroking his thumb softly across the pale, pale skin. He leaned in close so his nose was brushing Steve’s baby-soft skin, tracing across the veins he saw. Steve closed his eyes and hummed in something akin to pleasure. Bucky then opened his mouth, letting the warmth of his breath wash over Steve’s neck.

“I don’t fucking believe you,” he said harshly and sat back, eyes hard and steely.

Steve frowned at him with a wounded look, eyes going wide and vaguely Bambish.

Bucky just shook his head. “Give me the puppy dog eyes, or give me hell. I ain’t moving.”

Bucky said that less out of affection and more out of goddamn certainty.

Robyn was in critical condition. Bucky’s shot had missed several vital organs, but the bullet had clipped one of her lower ribs and there were bone shards everywhere. She’d lost a lot of blood too, more than Bucky would’ve thought possible. Apparently Robyn’s fast healing came at a price; her blood pumped harder and faster than the average human’s, meaning she could lose double whatever a regular human could. Not could. Had.

She’d practically bled out in Bucky’s arms. Bucky’s clothes, Steve’s blanket, the helicopter interior, everything was red by the time they reached the Stark Tower. And she’d lost even more in the process of getting down to the medical bay. He’d tried to get in and see her three times, but each time a nurse or JARVIS, sent him away with vague technical nonsense about her condition not being stable enough for visitors of any kind.

 _Including her goddamn kin_ , he thought sourly.

For someone who’d just saved the two most important people in his life from the hands of a goddamn manic, Bucky was in a surprisingly bad mood. The more he thought about it, the worse his mood got until even Steve – a glowing gem of sunshine even on his worst days – began to succumb to his hellfire moodiness.

“Just go see her,” he said one night while they were eating takeout in Steve’s hospital room, watching a rerun of _Buffy the Vampire Slayer_. “I’m sure if you barged on in there, they wouldn’t be able to kick you out.”

“Oh, come on, Stevie.” Bucky tried hard to lighten up, using all the energy he had to aim a grin in Steve’s direction. “You getting sick of me or something?”

“Maybe.” Steve smiled and looked away.

They hadn’t talked about it yet.

About the kiss Bucky had laid on Steve. He kept waiting for Steve to bring it up, even thought about it mentioning it a few times himself. But he just couldn’t. He’d found a sort of peace – even if that peace was laced with anger and moodiness on most days – and he didn’t want to disrupt it. And he was afraid that bringing up the kiss would.

That didn’t change the fact that he wanted to. Holy fucking cow, he wanted to so much. It was always on the tip of his tongue, burning behind every word he said, and sliding like poison down the back of his throat. But if it was poison, it was the awfully sweet kind.

It came to a head one morning after Bucky had spent the night in Steve’s hospital room, head slumped forward on the end of his bed. The morning light came in through the blinds and he sniffed sleepily, getting up to block out the gradually growing light. When he went back to his chair, Steve was sitting up, blinking at Bucky with his hair flung out in all kinds of crazy directions.

“Huh?” he blinked again as Bucky started giggling – honest to God giggling, the kind that spilled warmly from his lips and down his throat. “What’s so funny?”

“You.” Bucky moved to sit back down in his chair, but Steve shook his head.

“C’mere.” He grabbed Bucky’s hand, shuffling on the bed to make room.

“We’re not gonna fit, punk.” But Bucky was grinning, folding his fingers around Steve’s warm palm.

“We can try,” he breathed, closing his eyes and burying his head back into his pillow.

“This isn’t like you.” Bucky slid into the bed beside Steve, trying to squelch the little nugget of happiness growing inside him.

“I’m tired,” he huffed. “And injured. Leave me alone.”

“Okay.” Bucky almost started giggling again, letting go and turning on his side so he could fold himself around Steve’s back. “Punk.”

“Jerk,” he said sleepily, slipping easily back into unconsciousness.

When Bucky was absolutely sure he was out, he moved, folding himself completely around Steve. He hooked his leg over Steve’s, pressed his chest right up against Steve’s back. Then he moved his hand, resting it on Steve’s hip while his other hand made a pillow beneath his head. Then and only then he let himself go, breathing easily into this little space between Steve’s head and his shoulder that hadn’t changed when the serum had made him bigger.

It was a beautiful sleep. Nightmare free and oh so wonderful that it lasted through the whole day. The nurses came and went around them, but neither Steve nor Bucky woke.

Clint and Natasha came up, whispering to each other with light laughs thrown in. They went back out, got Sam and came back, giggling with him like little school kids.

“They’re so cute,” Clint said, reaching into his back pocket and fishing out his phone. He took several pictures even as Natasha threw an elbow into his side.

“I’ll be damned.” Sam rubbed a hand over his jaw. “Captain America’s the little spoon. Didn’t see that one coming.”

“Oh, please.” Natasha was smiling softly, genuinely. “Cap can act tough, can toss orders and men around, but Bucky’s had him tamed since the 1930’s.”

They left, still giggling, and Bucky smiled in his sleep, curling himself even tighter around Steve. They kissed more after that. Talked about the future and how Bucky had broke his programming to find Steve. It was beautiful and tragic and nothing like the angry, teary reunion Bucky had expected, but not quite as sappy as what he’d dreamed of.

But of course something had to go and fuck everything up.

And that something was Robyn.

*

She was in a coma for a week and a half. The first time she woke up she asked about Steve, asking if he was okay and praying that he wasn’t half as broken as she was. The second time she woke up she asked about Bucky and the man on the roof – she couldn’t remember his name – and if he was dead or still roaming around somewhere. When the nurses told her Bucky had killed him, she just kind of smiled and passed out again, his name still on her lips.

The third time she woke up she was stable enough for visitors and, of course, everyone in the Avengers Tower happened to stop by at the same fucking time. Steve was at her bedside when Bucky showed up with Fury and Coulson nearby. Bruce, Clint, Natasha, and Tony were already there as well with Sam and Thor showing up a few minutes after Bucky.

“Big crowd,” Robyn muttered, rolling her eyes toward Steve, who grabbed her hand and squeezed it encouragingly.

When everyone was settled, Fury launched into the longest fucking lecture about SHIELD security and the dangers Robyn had put everyone in by not sharing everything she knew. Robyn didn’t even try to defend herself, sat through the whole thing with a straight face, even nodding a couple times in agreement.

“Well,” Fury said when he was done, deflating a little due to lack of opposition. “I think it’s about damn time we let the truth have its day.” Fury dropped into a seat near Robyn’s bedside, leaving Bucky to perch awkwardly at the end of her bed.

She scooted her legs in, crossing them to give him more room and he smiled gratefully. She nodded, flashing him her own answering smile, but there was something sad hiding behind that smile. Bucky could see it in the way her lips turned down at the corners even as they were turning up, or the way her eyebrows creased into a hollow line that folded around her brow. Bucky blinked and a drop of something came back to him. A memory.

He’d sat like this before.

Bucky had sat like this with _Robyn_ before.

He just couldn’t remember when.

As quickly as the memory came it vanished, leaving Bucky to stare at Robyn as she took a deep breath and linked her shaking fingers together in her lap.

“It’s okay.” Steve rested his hand very gently on her upper arm, blonde brows knitted in a deep line. Robyn smiled again, but her face was still sad. She looked almost close to tears.

“Okay,” she said, taking another deep breath. “Ooookkayy. Here goes. I guess I should start at the beginning, right?”

Bucky listened as the room settled in for Robyn’s story.

She looked to Steve, pointing to the table by her bedside. “In the drawer. Pass me the book please.” He did and Bucky stared as she folded the pages of creased brown leather over her fingers, cracking the cover and flipping to a page towards the beginning. “This,” she said, holding the book up. “Is The Book. It holds every piece of information my dad and I collected on the Winter Soldier and Bucky Barnes. It started out” – she flipped to another page – “as my great grandmother’s diary.”

Her eyes flicked up to Bucky’s and away.

“Her name was Marie Stokes and you had a one night stand with her, Bucky, sometime after Steve got you out of the HYDRA lab.”

Bucky would’ve blushed, but Robyn’s face was still so small and sad that he resolved to maintain a neutral expression for her sake.

“She then had a son, named him James, and managed to convince another American G.I. that it was his.” She turned the page. “They moved here, to the US, somewhere near Albany, New York and settled down to start a family. She had three kids with that man, a Mr. Robert Sinclair, all of which were in the car with her and her husband when they ran off the road and into a ditch November 1961.” Her eyes then moved cautiously to Tony. “Their brakes were cut. The police suspected foul play, but they could never pin it on anyone. It was like . . .” she trailed off and Bucky could see she was trying really hard not to look at him. “they were looking for a _ghost_.”

Bucky’s whole body shut down. He sat rigidly on the end of her bed while Steve’s hand moved to his knee, moving in a slow comforting circle.

 “James survived the crash because he was not in the car at the time. He was with a girl – against his father’s orders – and was unaccounted for. A few years later, he had a kid, Adam, with that woman.” She took a deep shaky inhale. “My father.”

“The girl died in childbirth and James hung himself when my father was exactly 18 years old, just old enough to take care of himself.”

“My God.” Clint’s horrified gasp voiced the collective thought of the gathered Avengers. “Robyn –”

That small, sad smile was back as she looked up, thumbing to another creased page in The Book. “I’m not done,” she said simply, ducking her head back down so Bucky couldn’t see her face.

“My father got a job, blah blah blah, did normal people things until he had a seizure, out of the blue, summer ’89. The doctors couldn’t figure out what caused it and he went to all kinds of specialists for weeks afterward. All of them came up with nothing until my father – I told you he was a geneticist, Bucky, and he was, but he was also kind of a mad man – got a sample of his blood, extracted his DNA, and took a look. And he knew automatically that something was wrong.”

“No one thought to check his DNA earlier?” Bruce asked form his position by the window. At the beginning of Robyn’s speech he had been facing out towards the darkening city skyline, but now he was facing her, glasses in hand and a deep crease folded between his eyebrows.

Robyn shook his head. “They might have, but they weren’t looking for the stuff my father was. They were looking for basic genetic defects not hereditary mutations.”

“Hmm.” Bruce didn’t sound convinced.

Robyn shook her head. “Look, I don’t know all the details. Basically, my dad got a sample of his DNA and saw that something was wrong. That’s when he really started getting into his family history, digging up as much as he could and trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with his DNA.”

“And he found that diary, I’m guessing?” Tony rubbed at his goatee, eyebrows lowered deeply over his eyes.

Robyn nodded, clutching The Book to her chest. “It was in an old locker full of my grandfather’s stuff – he got all his family’s possessions when they died in the car crash. So my father read it and realized that Bucky Barnes, not Robert Sinclair was his grandfather.”

It was almost like she was refusing to look at him. The way she looked around the room, at everything and everyone _but_ him, it was like if she looked at him she would lose her composure. And Bucky was pretty sure he would lose his too.

“So he did some digging. Came to the same conclusion you guys did.” She nodded to Bruce and Tony. “That whatever serum they gave Bucky changed his genes in a way to make them unstable. And they only got worse with each generation. The serum didn’t make us stronger it just . . .” She looked at Steve, biting on her lower lip hard enough to draw blood. “It made us time bombs.”

The room digested her words for a minute. Bucky felt sick on his stomach and he could tell by the way the faces were drawn around him that everyone else felt as terrible as he did. But Robyn wasn’t done.

“Please know . . . I’m not telling you guys this cause I want your pity.” Her eyes were fierce when she looked up, despite the tears lingering at the corners. “I’m okay, really. I don’t want you guys looking at me like I’m some precious flower or whatever. I can take care of myself.”

Bucky’s eyes traced across the lingering handprint, the purple bruise he’d left around her neck.

“Okay. So.” She took a deep breath. “My dad was never going to have kids. He realized that having children would only make the genes even more unstable and he didn’t want to pass that on to anyone else. He had a plan. He was going to study everything he could on the genes and then pass away peacefully without putting anyone else at risk. Stupid plan, if you ask me. But whatever.

“He got low one night.” She shook her head, a shameful blush rushing to her cheeks. “Hired a prostitute, the whole nine yards.”

The room collectively inhaled, a sharp gasp as everyone simultaneously realized where Robyn’s story was heading.

“Yeah,” she smiled sadly. “Nine months later there’s a baby on my dad’s doorstep and a note from the woman saying it’s his.” She shook her head, lower lip wobbling. “Bet he was surprised.”

Bucky wanted to speak, to say something, anything, to ease the hurt in her voice that was a throbbing, open wound. He could feel it, clear as day. And he knew everyone else could. But what could you say to that? What could you say to ease her pain that wouldn’t sound forced and pitying?

“Well, my father didn’t drown me – he told me later he had thought about it, to save me from whatever genetic defect was hiding in my genes, gee thanks Dad – but uh, once I was old enough, he gave me work. Since information on good old Captain America over here” – her hand found Steve’s where it rested on her shoulder – “was easier to find than any info on the Winter Soldier, he gave me files about Cap and told me to start looking.

“It was common knowledge that Bucky Barnes and Captain America were BFF’s. I mean, everybody knew that. So I looked through Cap’s files, researched him, hell, I even visited your mom’s grave – which was as creepy as it sounds, trust me, I know. I can’t even begin to tell you how much I’ve thought about the stuff I did and like ninety percent of my thoughts aren’t pleasant ones. Okay, sorry, anyway.”

Bucky traced his eyes across her face and was glad to see there were no tears. Because if she started crying, he wasn’t sure who would be there to stare out at her; Bucky Barnes or the Winter Soldier.

“It’s funny,” she said, tacking a little grim laugh onto the end of her words. She swung her gaze up to Steve’s then very quickly to Bucky, squeezing her hand tightly around Steve’s palm. “I may be your blood, Bucky, but uh . . .” She looked at Steve. “I’m a product of your influence.”

She shook her head when her words met the room’s stunned silence. “I know pretty much everything there is to know about Captain America. I watched the old war videos, countless documentaries. I read just about every book with a mention of our dead Cap, went to exhibit after exhibit, studied your drawings, everything.”

She tried to pull her hand away from Steve’s, but he wouldn’t let her. He folded his fingers very tightly around hers and nodded encouragingly, earning him a smile small out of her. “I draw today because you did. I mean I know it’s stupid, but . . .” Her smile wobbled.

“It’s not stupid.” Steve’s voice jolted the room. Everyone had grown so accustomed to Robyn’s slow, quiet drawl that when Steve spoke in his deep commanding voice, it gave everyone a bit of a shock. “It’s okay, Robyn.” He squeezed her hand again and from somewhere deep inside himself, Bucky got the feeling that he should be the one sitting at her side, squeezing her hand and telling her it was alright. “Keep going.”

“Okay.” She nodded, squeezing her free hand into a tight fist. “Oookay. This part –” She cleared her throat. “This part’s the worst in my opinion.”

Natasha muttered something very softly in Russian. It was a cross between a curse and a prayer for Robyn and Bucky looked to her with fiery eyes.

“So, I said earlier that my father was a bit of a madman. And . . . as he got older, he only got worse. He had more seizures and they came more frequently. He started having heart problems . . . everything just got so much worse. And now he had a kid.” She looked down at her lap, fisting her hand in the material of the blanket on her bed. “And he felt like he had to fix everything, he had to find some way to stabilize the genes because if he didn’t . . .” She didn’t need to finish the sentence.

She cleared her throat sharply. “Anyway. So my dad started hacking into HYDRA files. The most top secret of the top secret shit. He tried to get their attention, made sure they knew he was Bucky’s grandson.”

“Why the hell did he want to do that?” Fury asked. His words were sharp but there was something soft in his tone that made Robyn look at him for the first time without anger or fear in her eyes.

“He wanted Bucky.” She looked at him, blue eyes clear and burning. “He wanted HYDRA to send the Winter Soldier in after him so he could get a sample of his blood.”

“Fucking hell,” Bucky cursed in Russian. “He’s crazy.”

“Was,” Robyn corrected, looking away. “He was crazy.”

A tense silence grew until she opened her mouth to speak again. “He got what he wanted. HYDRA sent you in to kill him.” She shook her head. “Goddamn you were scary. Sorry, Buck, but I . . .” She turned her head and her lip was wobbling so fiercely that Bucky was surprised she could even manage to get her words out. “Anyway. My dad built a panic room in his office, behind a painting. Locked me in there, but left a little slot open so I could see what was going on. I was . . .” She shook her head left and right, squinting one eye in thought. “Eleven? No. Thirteen.” She nodded. “Yeah. I was thirteen, I think.

“So anyway. You came into the office, all scary and dark and Winter Soldiery and my dad shot you so full of sedatives I’m surprised you didn’t die right there on the spot.” She shook her head. “Any normal person would have. It was . . . it was downright scary the way you fell. But then you kept trying to get back up and –”

Her voice cut off sharply and Bucky could feel Steve’s eyes on him. _Are you okay?_ he asked, blue eyes shining as brightly as Robyn’s. Bucky nodded. Both he and the Winter Soldier wanted to know what happened because, for the life of them, neither seemed to remember.

“He got a sample of your blood, took me out of the painting, and rushed off to put the sample under his microscope. He left me to guard you – which was the absolute stupidest fucking idea my father ever had because I was a skinny thirteen year old girl, I never even stood a chance against 200 hundred something pounds of pure assassin muscle.” Bucky almost cracked a smile as Robyn shook her head, eyes blown comically wide. “I mean, like what the heck, Dad? Okay, anyway.

“He probably thought the sedatives would keep you out, but you and your super-soldier body burned through them pretty quickly.” She closed her eyes and her mouth twisted into a tight little ball that she had to force the words out of, one pained sentence at a time. “Five minutes after he left, you twitched and then you sat up, all murderous rage and what not.” She swallowed hard. “I thought you were going to kill me. You probably should have, but . . . I’d seen the photos. I looked _exactly_ like you when I was little. And now, I guess. Less so, ‘cause the hair is long. But . . . same cleft chin, same dark hair, same small blue eyes. So when you sat up and looked at me . . . something in you must have recognized my face because you stopped and just stared and stared and stared at me.

“I said your name,” she continued, cracking the knuckles of her free hand against the mattress. “I screamed it actually, and then my father came running in and you turned to him and fucking freaked. Started yelling and shouting – in Russian mind you so I had no idea what the hell you were saying and neither did my father – and carrying on like the devil was out to get you.

“You upended every piece of furniture in my dad’s office and when he finally managed to get his hands around the little shotgun he’d hid under the floorboards, you grabbed me and ran.”

Bucky could feel the shock written on his face, could feel it creasing down every line of his forehead, burning between every blink of his eyes. He wasn’t the only one though. He could feel the collective air of the room settle between shock and awe and suddenly the entire room was focused on him and Robyn.

She looked up at him and managed to pull her hand away from Steve’s. She scooted closer to him, face twisting in pain, and Bucky reached out, holding her with his hands looped across her shoulders.

“I lived with you for two years,” she said, folding her hands in her lap and looking up at him with the bluest blue eyes Bucky had ever seen. “In some stupid apartment in North Carolina, of all places.”

Bucky couldn’t see anything but Robyn’s face and he was grateful for that. It was bad enough to feel the pitying gazes of the room zeroing in on him and Robyn; he didn’t actually want to see them.

“You weren’t _Bucky Barnes_ , but you weren’t the _Winter Soldier_ either. You were an odd mixture of the two and it was . . .” Her voice trailed off and she dropped one shoulder in a light shrug. “It was nice.”

Bucky wanted to hold Robyn, to crush her to his chest, and cry into her hair because everything suddenly made so much fucking sense. The familiarity he’d felt around her, the informal way she’d said his name when he’d walked out of the elevator that first day. It made so much _fucking_ sense and yet Bucky couldn’t remember. He couldn’t remember living with his granddaughter for two years when he could remember, in detail, the first and only time he’d kissed Steve over 70 fucking years ago.

“Jesus,” he whispered quietly, lips parting in surprise. “Fucking Christ.”

“We talked about you, and me. I had to explain who I was to you a couple times before it started to sink in.” Her voice was warm with a kind of soft smile that didn’t make it all the way to her face. “You took me to school and we had dinner and we watched TV- you were really wigged out by that at first, kept looking at and asking me why everything was in color and why the screen was so goddamn big.” She laughed quietly.

“Other times, you cried and I had to hide under my bed while you destroyed every piece of furniture we had.” At his wild look, she sat up, shaking her head fiercely. “No, stop. You never hurt _me_. Just the furniture. Punched the walls and then went back and taped posters over the holes so our landlord wouldn’t see.”

He relaxed slightly, but his spine was still rigid. “Good,” he breathed softly.

“Yeah.” Robyn looked up at him, her eyes warm with memories Bucky couldn’t share with her. “It was.”

“What happened?” Bucky’s metal arm was frighteningly cold against the warm skin of Robyn’s shoulder. “Why’d it end?”

She shrugged, looking away. “I don’t know. You’re programming kicked back in one day and I came home to an empty house. I was surprised, of course, but not that surprised and I, uh . . .” She trailed off, eyes snapping shut tightly. “My friend, Maria, she was a senior when I was freshmen and she’d got accepted to Colombia. She knew my home life was a little _unstable_ and when I’d told her you’d run off she offered to take me with her to New York. We shared an apartment and things were good.”

“Until your dad died,” Bucky said the words for her.

She nodded, blinking up at him. “Yeah. Heart attack. I told you that part. I went up for his funeral and then . . .” Her whole body grew stiff and Bucky watched as she fought hard against the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks. “Maria died and I didn’t know what to do.”

“I killed her.” Bucky shouldn’t have said it. He didn’t want to, didn’t want to give Robyn a chance to push his arms away and be mad at him. But the Winter Soldier was scraping at the surface, desperate to tell someone of his sins. “I can’t remember why, but I –”

To his relief, Robyn looked up at him, nodding. “I know. She left a voicemail and I kind of drew my own conclusions.”

And she was still here. Still letting Bucky hold her.

Incredible. Fucking incredible.

“I’m sorry.” He folded his arms around her in a tight hug, holding her to his chest and trying very hard not to cry in her hair. “I’m so fucking sorry.”

She stayed quiet. Didn’t tell him it was okay, or that she forgave him and that was good, that was really good. Because if she had, if she’d lied to him like that, Bucky would have really lost it and he wasn’t sure if anyone could’ve brought him back.

“So what now?” Someone asked after a few minutes of silence. “Where do we go from here?”

“I don’t know,” Robyn answered, pulling away from Bucky’s arms and laying back on the pillows. Her breath came quickly and Bucky could see that she was tired, taking shallow breaths and stretching her neck back like it was hurting her. “I really don’t.”

“It’s not like we have many options.” Bruce stepped up behind Bucky, standing at the foot of Robyn’s bed with soft, pitying eyes. “You’re dying, Rob.”

Bucky inhaled sharply, even though he already knew, and he looked at Robyn with a tortured expression.

“I thought I said I didn’t want your pity,” Robyn told him, looking away. But she didn’t deny him.

“But I saved you.” Cold swirled around Bucky’s gut, frosting his insides and turning his blood to a cold, slush in his veins.

“Her genes are too unstable.” Bruce was talking when he really shouldn’t have been, trying to explain the situation Robyn was in. “And all this healing the past couple days, you two fighting, the HYDRA tranq dart, and then the gut shot . . . it’s just taken its toll. She’s got three months, at most, before everything starts shutting down.”

“I saved you,” Bucky said again, mouth dry. He looked to Steve and the tight grip he had around Robyn’s shoulders. “And you. I saved you both.” He slid backwards and almost fell off the bed, shaking his head as the cold moved up, spreading over his chest and out to his arms, making his fingers shake.

Robyn nodded, leaning forward. “You did, Buck. But I –”

“Why is this happening?” The cold spread to his neck, rising like a wave that threated to drag him under. “Can’t I just be happy? Why do you have to die? Can’t we fix it?”

He didn’t know who the “we” was – maybe it was him and Steve, or Bruce and Tony and the collected intelligence of SHIELD – but he could feel despair mixing with the cold, flooding his limbs and numbing them as both he and Winter Soldier flailed. The Winter Solider, who was the cold and was also made of the cold, struggled to keep his head above water as the cold spread up his neck, filling his mouth and nostrils with ice.

“Bucky –” Steve reached out to him, moving slowly away from Robyn’s side. “Buck, it’ll be okay. Just –”

“After everything, fucking everything –!” Bucky didn’t know where that thought was going, didn’t know where any of his thoughts were going. He could feel nothing but the cold as it rose and spread and threatened to overtake him in a few deadly strides.

To minimize the damage, and to avoid the watching eyes of the assembled Avengers, Bucky turned and fled the room. He took the stairs over the elevator, running down all 200 something flights of the Stark Tower to try and generate some heat in his old frozen limbs. When he reached the bottom and still felt nothing but cold, he turned and headed down a familiar street with no thoughts beyond warming his cold soldier’s body.

“No more,” he shouted. Or maybe he whispered. There were other people around him, and then there weren’t. Time passed quickly, then slowed to an unbearable pace. Bucky lived a thousand different lives in the time it took him to run from the Stark Tower to the bottom of a beer bottle. And each was worse than the last.


	8. Lady Sif and the Hail Mary Treatment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get smutty for Bucky and Steve (at the beginning, but they don't go too far cause old Bucky-o's drunk) and then the Avengers decide their next course of action for fixing Robyn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some smut (first I've ever written) at the beginning lol. I've got another smut fic and an update of my Vampire Bucky saga coming up soon so that's why it took me so long to write this. Also, I've got half of the chapter after this already written so hopefully that will be up in a couple days. Kay, enjoy the smut and the heartbreak. Also LADY SIF x OC. If that offends you, too bad I think it's cute. Kay bye.

Lady Sif and the Hail Mary Treatment

Steve had been looking for Bucky for close to five hours when Natasha phoned him.

“He’s drinking himself stupid,” Natasha sounded weary. Steve could hear it even through all the phone lines that separated them. “Might want to get him before he really loses it.”

“Right,” he said before hanging up.

He curled his hand around his phone in a small fist before he turned and kicked a trashcan hard enough to send it sailing across the street.

And that’s how Steve ended up at some hole-in-the-wall bar, tugging Bucky out of his seat towards the door.

“Where are we going?” he slurred, stumbling over his feet a little.

“Home, Buck.” Steve ducked his head down, looping Bucky’s arms up over his shoulders. “Back to the Tower. Or maybe the apartment.”

“No!” Bucky struggled to break Steve’s grasp, shaking loosely. “No, I don’t wanna.”

“Come on, Bucky.” Steve managed to get him out of the door – barely – and shuffled them into the street. “I’ll hail a cab.”

“No.” Bucky shoved Steve’s arms, pushing him out into the empty street. “No. Don’t wanna go back to the Tower. Everyone looks at me funny.”

“Bucky.”

“I killed her, Stevie.” Bucky sniffed, sitting down in the middle of the sidewalk. Steve was suddenly glad Bucky had picked some stupid ho-dunk bar to crash in because he didn’t think the image of Captain America dragging his drunk friend out of a bar wouldn’t sit so well with all kinds of folks.

“Who?” Steve bent down, kneeling so he was at Bucky’s eye level.

“Robyn.” When Bucky looked up, his eyes were red and blurry. “She’s still alive, but I’ve killed her. Just by being me, I killed her.”

Steve closed his eyes, looping his arm around the back of Bucky’s neck. “Buck –”

But what could he say? He was telling the truth, as much as Steve hated to admit it.

Steve sighed and stood up, dragging Bucky up with him. They got into a cab and headed to Steve’s apartment. Bucky cried and mumbled drunkenly into Steve’s shoulder the whole time, growing louder and louder the closer the got to Steve’s home.

“Is he alright?” the cabbie asked when they arrived, eyes wide.

“No,” Steve said simply, pulling Bucky out of the car.

They barely made it in the doorway. They made it past Mr. Levi’s old apartment, and the one Robyn and Maria had shared without incident. But when Steve opened the door to his apartment Bucky broke down.

The room was sparkling. Someone, a SHIELD agent no doubt, had come in and cleaned the place up while Steve was gone. There was no more blood, no bodies. They couldn’t do much for the bullet holes, but at least they’d given him a new TV.

“I can’t stay here much longer,” Steve sighed to himself, dragging Bucky to the kitchen. “I’m gonna have to move into the Tower soon.”

“That’s alright,” Bucky slurred between sniffles. “You’ll be closer to me.”

Under any other circumstance, Steve might have smiled. But he just sighed, closing his eyes and letting Bucky sit at a chair by the kitchen counter.

“I’ll get you some water,” he said to the top of Bucky’s head.

“No.” Bucky’s hand darted out, latching around Steve’s wrist with a vice-like grip. “Don’t leave. Just –”

Steve dropped his head, turning his palm up so Bucky’s fingers could curl around it. “I won’t, okay? I won’t leave you. But you need some water and –”

The rest of Steve’s sentence was lost against Bucky’s mouth as he surged upwards, hooking his teeth around Steve’s bottom lip and pulling hard.

“What –” Steve murmured against Bucky’s mouth as he grabbed the back of Steve’s neck with his metal hand, pulling him down on top of him. “Buck –”

“Shut up, Steve.” Bucky was groaning, _moaning_ , into his mouth. “Just, God. Shut up. I can’t – I can’t –”

He shoved his flesh and blood hand up Steve’s shirt. He scratched at the skin almost violently, sucking on Steve’s mouth like his life depended on it. Steve was too still, too stunned to do much in return. He could feel the desperation in Bucky’s kiss as he forced Steve’s mouth open and slid his tongue inside, wanting to taste every inch of Steve’s mouth.

“Buck –” Steve tried to breathe, tried to _think_.

He could taste the booze in Bucky’s mouth, a slow dark taste that played with his taste buds and sat like a cloying weight on his tongue. He could feel his heat, radiating outwards from the center of his chest into Steve and down to . . . _unmentionable parts_. But this wasn’t good, wasn’t right. Bucky was drunk and Steve was sober and he – God, Bucky had been crying two minutes ago and now he was trying to get in Steve’s pants? Where the hell had this come from?

But he knew. He’d always know. Even back in the 30’s, when they weren’t allowed to feel this way Steve had pined for Bucky. And, according to Bucky, he’d pined right back.

They were 90 year old idiots in love.

But this was not right.

Between the feel of Bucky pressing open mouthed kisses down his neck and the smell of his hair, his clothes, and his damn tantalizing skin, Steve tried to get his thoughts in order.

Did he want this?

Hell, _yes_.

Was this the right time?

Hell, _no_.

“Bucky.” He reached up and grabbed Bucky’s metal hand, pulling it off his neck. But he had no sooner done that than it was gone, ripped from his grip and shoved down into . . . oh no. “Bucky, stop.”

“Why?” The hand on Steve’s chest reached up to pinch his nipples before it pulled back, out from under Steve’s shirt. “You don’t want to?” His voice was flush with warmth and booze and a dangerous, dark kind of sarcasm.

He could feel Steve’s . . . well, his . . . um . . . _interest_. His hand was right on _it_ , actually. Moving up and down and _palming_ him through his jeans. Bucky knew he wanted it and the sinful smile he tipped in Steve’s direction let him know it.

Steve gasped and closed his eyes, reaching down and frantically trying to pull Bucky’s hand off his crotch. “Jesus,” he breathed. “Because you’re drunk.” He had to take a few deep inhales through his nose, holding Bucky’s metal hand in both of his. “Damn,” he said after a moment.”

“C’mon, Stevie.” There was a flash of silver in the darkness and then Steve’s shirt was gone. Steve blinked, eyes wide, and watched as Bucky pressed his face to the skin, tracing his tongue across the dips and crests of Steve’s abs. His eyes were bright when he looked back up. “Live a little.”

Steve didn’t know how the hell they ended up in his bedroom. They’d started in the dark entryway and managed to make it to the little couch in the living room before Bucky started feeling him up. But then suddenly they were in Steve’s room and Bucky was tossing him down onto the bed and locking the door behind himself and God what? Hold on. Slow down, this was all going too fast and Steve didn’t –

“That’s right, Steve.” He blinked and Bucky was on top of him, straddling his hips and reaching down to hook his arm around the back of Steve’s neck. “You’re a virgin, right?”

“Buck, stop.” He was breathing too loudly. His pulse was roaring in his ears and all he could think about was Bucky _on top of him_ , dick pressed against his stomach and holy shit he was excited. Steve was excited too, but Jesus Christ, is this really how it was supposed to go? “Bucky.”

“Shut up, Stevie.” Bucky bent, pressing his lips into the hollow of Steve’s neck and tracing them upwards. “I’ll make it good for you. I promise.”

“But –” There was something he was going to say but then Bucky bit his neck _hard_ and Steve lost everything.

His pants were off and then so were Bucky’s. Bucky took off his underwear proudly, shucking his shirt off and lying so he was flat against Steve.

“Oh God.” Some thought returned to Steve as he saw the place where Bucky’s metal arm met his skin, a tough veiny patch of skin that was as scarred as the rest of him and yet so much worse. “Holy –”

“Mmmm, don’t look at it.” Bucky rolled his hips down into Steve’s and pulling the thought out of his head before it even began. “Just _feel_.”

“Buck.” Steve was moaning loudly – god how _embarrassing_ – and Bucky was swallowing his moans, kissing and sucking and leaving his mark all over Steve’s skin.

“Ready?” Bucky asked after a moment, hooking his thumbs in the waistband of Steve’s boxers. He spread his other fingers along Steve’s hips, rubbing and pinching the skin while Steve writhed beneath him.

Steve started to nod before rational thought came back to him. “Wait,” he panted, surging upwards into Bucky’s arms. “Wait.”

“No.” Bucky dug his lips into Steve’s, scraping his teeth against Steve’s tender bottom lip. “I’ve been waiting for this for close to 80 years, pal. I’m done waiting.”

“Bucky.” Steve was stronger than him – barely – and his inhibitions were stronger – just the tiniest bit – and his gut was _screaming_ at him, telling him to stop, to pull away before it was too late, before Bucky or the Winter Soldier or whoever was in there did something to Steve he might regret in the morning. “Stop!”

He managed to shove Bucky away, scrambling backwards on his bed until he was against the wall, pillows tossed aside to form a soft wall between him and Bucky. “Just stop!” he breathed, smoothing a hand over his hair and holding his hand out, palm up, between them.

“Why?” Bucky’s eyes were bright with liquor and dark with lust and angrier than Steve had ever seen them. “I want you,” he breathed, surging forward.

His lips captured Steve’s and it was a solid five minutes later before he managed to work up the strength to push him away again. “And I want you,” he gasped.

“Then what’s the problem, pal?” Bucky licked his swollen red lips and Steve’s gaze flicked down to them – the little shit he _so_ did that on purpose.

“You’re drunk and upset,” Steve said, chest heaving. “And I’m upset –”

Bucky looked away. “But not drunk.”

“ _Exactly_!” Steve moved forward an inch, trying to find Bucky’s hand among the tangle of pillows and sheets. “And you can’t give me honest consent because you’re –”

“Oh come on, Steve!” Bucky slid forward again, open mouth pressing long drawn-out kisses against his neck. “I _need_ you.”

“No.”

 Another kiss. “Yes.”

“Buck –”

Steve didn’t know how Bucky got his arms up over his head, or how he got his hand down his underwear but suddenly there was a hand around his . . . oh Jesus

“I want to forget.” Bucky rocked against him, lips at his ear as he stroked softly up and down his dick. “I want to forget everything that isn’t James Barnes and Steve Rogers. I want to forget HYDRA and SHIELD and –”

“And Robyn?” Steve could barely speak against the white hot pleasure rushing to the surface of his skin, but the two words he managed to croak somehow got through to Bucky, slicing through the lusty haze he’d drawn around himself.

Bucky moved backwards, almost falling off the bed, with wounded eyes like a frightened animal before it bolts.

“Not Robyn,” Bucky said before he could help himself, looking down and clenching his metal fist tightly. His hair swept forward, hanging in front of his eyes as everything, all the anger and ferocity, left him in a rush. “Never Robyn.”

“Bucky . . .”

Steve reached for him, clasping a hand around his shoulder. When Bucky looked up, Steve saw his old friend wasn’t the only one who was hurting.

“We’ll fix her,” Steve said calmly, dragging Bucky and the Winter Soldier into his arms.

“No you won’t,” the Winter Solider snarled.

“Promise?” Bucky sniffed.

Steve didn’t know who to answer first.

*

Bucky and Steve spent the next couple of days pretending that night had never happened. Well, Steve probably wanted to talk about it, wanted to say something to Bucky to make him feel better. But Bucky had faked a hangover and Steve hadn’t pushed it, giving Bucky his space.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky had said the next morning, waking up on Steve’s bed stark-naked. “I didn’t hurt you did I?”

“Nah,” Steve brushed Bucky’s worry off with a smile. “Can’t hurt me in this Super Soldier body.”

But there was a dark purple hickey poking out from under the line of his t-shirt. At the same time Bucky flushed with shame, he was oddly proud of that mark, smiling to himself the rest of the day.

Thor came up with the Hail Mary plan to save Robyn.

“My people should be able to help her,” he said to the gathered Avengers – excluding, of course, the patient herself. “Our technology is far more advanced than anything you have on Midgard.”

“I like the sound of that,” Bucky muttered, crossing his arms over his chest. But at the same time he wanted Robyn to get better, the darker half of his brain, the Winter Solider half, was warning against leading a team into unknown territory. Especially with a liability like Robyn dragging them down.

Bucky told that part to shut the hell up and spent the rest of the day by Robyn’s bedside to ease his guilty conscience.

Of course Robyn was less than thrilled.

“Asgard?” She’d blanched when Steve brought up the idea, looking between him and Bucky with wide eyes. “Really? An alien freaking planet?”

“It’s our best shot right now,” Steve said earnestly. “Thor says they’ve got some way of altering your genetics, destroying the mutation and replacing it with something more stable.”

“Sounds great,” she frowned.

“It’ll only be for a few days.” Bucky let Steve do all the talking, holding Robyn’s frail hand as he sat at her bedside. “And we have to do something. We can’t just let you –”

The word _die_ hung unfinished off the end of his sentence.

A wry grin pulled at Robyn’s lips and she looked down at herself with Steve and Bucky.

She was getting worse every day. Her lungs were filling with fluid and she could barely breathe on her own. She had a cannula in her nose feeding her pure, undiluted oxygen as well as a blood bag hanging beside her bed in case she started bleeding again. The smallest cut and Robyn bled for hours, and the cuts and bruises she already had weren’t going away. Her insides were a mess and no treatment Bruce or Tony gave her was taking affect.

“We’ve got to fix the mutation,” Bruce had told Steve while Bucky “slept” at Robyn’s bedside. “It’s stopping her from healing. If we fix that, we might have a chance at fixing everything else that’s wrong with her.”

Robyn gave in, sliding Bucky a look out of the corner of her eye. “But if I get any worse, you bring me back home.”

Steve’s mouth pinched down. “Why?” he scowled.

Robyn looked him straight in the eye, speaking calmly and without emotion. “Because if I’m going to die, I’d rather die on Earth than somewhere I don’t belong.”

Her words slammed into Bucky’s gut and he dented an exposed steel girder with his metal fist after he left her room.

The day they were supposed to leave for Asgard, Bucky took the eleveator up the Stark Tower. He’d just arrived back from Steve’s apartment, carrying a suitcase full of all the things he thought Robyn might need. He’d packed some clothes, a toothbrush, a couple hair things, some sketchpads and pencils, and – most importantly – a ragged old Bucky Bear that he’d found sitting by her bedside.

Looking down at it, Bucky could almost see a young Robyn holding it, folding her little hands around his ears and squeezing its tiny body under her arm. Closing his eyes tightly, he placed the bear on top of the pile to be packed, treating it with all the care and respect he thought it deserved.

When he finally got up to the medical ward and Robyn’s room, he found a not-so-unpleasant surprise there waiting for him.

*

There was a woman in Robyn’s room. It wasn’t Natasha, or Jane – Thor’s pretty little scientist girlfriend. It wasn’t Pepper or Darcy and it certainly wasn’t Robyn – she was lying down in the bed in front of the stranger.

This was a _woman_ woman. A woman with full breasts and lovely dark hair that swung in a tight braid down the back of her neck. She had nice, strong hips, a strong back, and legs longer than the Hudson River.

And she was covered head-to-toe in silver plate metal.

Okay. That was weird.

Bucky eyed her cautiously as he pushed the door open, hand going to his waist for the little silver knife he always kept on his person. His metal arm was usually enough to subdue any attacker, but the knife was handy and easier to conceal than a gun so it was his backup in case whoever he was fighting proved to be stronger than Bucky’s arm.

“Bucky!” Robyn called him over, voice bright and airy.

The woman turned and _damn_ , if she wasn’t gorgeous. Sure, Bucky had his eyes on a taller, blonder, and very _male_ prize, but it didn’t mean he couldn’t appreciate a fine dame. And, damn, she was _fine_.

And she looked like she could crush Bucky between her teeth if she tried.

That severe face pulled back into a smile when Robyn nodded, holding her arm out towards Bucky.

“Sif, this is my, uh –” Robyn blushed a little, knocking her feet together beneath the thin hospital sheets. “My uh . . .”

“Father.” Bucky took the woman’s – _Sif’s_ – hand with his left, squeezing tightly.

His eyes widened a little when she met his grip, smiling brightly and squeezing with a strength of her own.

“I am Lady Sif,” she said politely, backing up so she could keep Robyn in sight while talking to Bucky. “Pleased to meet you.”

“Likewise.” Bucky stepped back, crossing his arms over his chest and raising an eyebrow in Robyn’s direction. “Now, uh, good to meet you and everything. But who the hell are you?”

“She’s a goddess.” Robyn blurted, smiling fiercely. Both Sif and Bucky turned to look at her and her cheeks ignited, going from white to beet red in less than three seconds. “I mean, she’s from Asgard. Thor sent her, um . . .”

“Thor asked me to accompany Lady Robyn to my homeland.” Lady Sif smiled easily, face relaxed but alert. “He thought having another woman present might ease the transition.”

“Uh-huh.” Bucky nodded while Robyn fidgeted on the hospital bed in front of him.

“I’m hardly a woman.” Robyn played with her fingers, twisting them around and around the empty IV tube dangling beside her bed. “I mean, I’m all –” she made a vague gesture that Bucky interpreted as some kind of explosion – “and you, well.” Robyn looked at Lady Sif, cheeks flushing brilliantly. “You’re gorgeous.” She blinked quickly, looking down at herself with shock creasing down the lines of her face. “Wait, what?”

Sif smiled and Bucky saw something akin to fondness softening her stern features. “You are very kind, Lady Robyn.”

Thor chose that moment to ask for Lady Sif’s help on the Stark tower balcony.

“Excuse me,” she said, reaching down and squeezing Robyn’s hand lightly.

When she moved past Bucky carrying the scent of lilac and plate metal, father (great grand) and daughter turned to watch her go.

“Oh man,” Robyn sighed and Bucky looked back at her, eyebrows disappearing into his wild hairline. She met his glance and sighed again, almost dreamily. “I am so screwed.”

Bucky laughed long and hard and loud. He threw back his head, putting his whole body into the motion, bending to rest his hand on the hospital bed outside Robyn’s ankle. She giggled a little too, fiddling with the tube on her cannula. Bucky’s laugh retreated back into his face and she watched as it made a home in his grey-blue eyes.

“No daughter of mine is going to flirt like that.” He laughed, moving around behind her to begin unhooking all the tubes and wires that kept her plugged into the wall. Still chuckling, he tossed the wires into her lap and moved around to her front. He scooped her up into his arms, moving so her arms were looped around his neck, her head resting on his shoulder. “I should’ve taught you better than that, kid,” he laughed into her ear, carrying her bridal style out onto the balcony where all the Avengers were gathered.

“Shut up, _Dad_ ,” Robyn pouted, kicking her legs from side to side.

Bucky grinned and moved toward Steve, whose smile was like sunrise after the darkest night of the year.

*

Four of the Avengers, besides Bucky – who was not technically an Avenger and had no desire to be one at the moment, thankyouverymuch – traveled with Robyn to Asgard.

Thor, of course, seeing as he was Robyn’s ticket into medical funland, as Stark called it. Steve, obviously, because he wasn’t letting Robyn out of his sight and Bucky out of arm’s reach. Sam tagged along because he liked Robyn and didn’t completely trust Bucky yet – no offense, man, I like you and Steve loves you, but you tried to kill him – and Bruce came because he wanted to take a look at Thor’s alien tech.

“I’ve dealt with enough alien stuff to last me another three lifetimes.” Stark almost backed off his own balcony trying to avoid the Bifrost circle Thor had drawn on the tile.

“Amen.” Clint also stayed out, even though Bucky had kind of wished he would tag along. “Sorry, man,” he said, clapping Bucky’s shoulder. “But I’ve had a demigod in my head before. Don’t really want to give any of those bastards another chance at controlling me.”

And Natasha, of course, stuck with Clint. “You’ll be fine, Barnes,” she said in her typical no-shit attitude, but Bucky wasn’t 100% sure.

“Lemme know when you get back.” Fury waved from inside the doorway, Coulson standing tight-lipped at his side. “We still need to talk to Miss Barnes over there.”

“Here’s to hoping I die before they can use their _enhanced interrogation_ techniques on me.” Robyn gulped.

Steve was appalled and immediately told her not to joke about that kind of thing while Bucky swallowed a smirk, shifting Robyn a little higher in his arms.

Traveling to Asgard was . . . _weird_. Actually, weird was probably putting it mildly, put there was no other words in Bucky’s – English – vocabulary that could’ve accurately described it. It was neither good nor bad, it just was. And it _was_ fucking weird.

Robyn seemed to enjoy it though.

“Can we do that again?” she gasped when it finished, eyes full of reflected starlight.

“Ah _no_.” Steve all but tumbled onto the floor, staggering on his feet a little.

“You okay, punk?” Bucky asked, secretly smug. Super Solider serum or not, Steve hated rollercoasters.

“Fine.” Steve’s head tipped and he folded his arms over his stomach. “Jusssssssst fine,” he drawled.

“Welcome to Asgard.” A tall dark giant – Heimdall, Thor later told Bucky, Jesus what a name – welcomed them, gesturing for them to walk forward on a, that’s right, a fucking _rainbow_ bridge.

“I’m high.” Bruce kneaded his forehead, blinking rapidly and removing his glasses. “I’ve got to be. There’s no other explanation. I mean, turning into a huge green monster; I can deal. But a rainbow road –”

“Jesus Christ.” Sam was just as shocked as Bruce. “I need a drink.”

“Do you need me to hold her?” Lady Sif practically materialized at Bucky’s hip, looking worriedly at Robyn. “I am much stronger than you.”

“No thanks,” Bucky huffed, shifting her slight form onto his shoulder. He looked down at her and saw her eyes closing. Whatever fleeting moment of joy she’d experienced coming off the Bifrost, had passed and she was looking worse than ever.

“To the throne room.” Thor’s face was grim as he passed Bucky, resting his hand lightly on Robyn’s forehead. “Now.”

*

“The prodigal son returns.”

An old white bearded guy stood as Thor entered, his eyes flashing dangerously with something Bucky could not identify.

His eyes quickly cleared as Thor kept moving, the group behind him slowly pushing its way into the throne room. Bucky looked around uneasily as liquid gold settled around him. The columns, the walls, the fixtures, the very torch sconces seemed to have been cast out of the stuff. Everything was lit from the inside with an odd yellow glow. Even the air seemed to shine, flashing in golden sparkles as it passed through errant beams of sunshine.

“Have I ever mentioned I hate the color yellow?” Bucky said, looking down at Robyn. Her eyes flashed open then closed with no response.

“This girl needs medical attention.” Thor did not address his father. He addressed the collective gathering, nodding to his father with juts the slightest hint of familial recognition. He went in for the kill with a small mob at his back, Bucky and a dying Robyn at the helm. “She is in need of our aid.”

“You return to Midgard and bring back another woman.” Odin – Jesus, seriously, not one normal sounding name in the whole lot of them – Thor’s father, and king of Asgard as Bucky was later informed, stepped off his throne of interlocking gold rings, moving towards his son with deliberate slowness. “What happened to your Jane? Is she no longer young and pretty enough for your tastes?”

“This girl is the daughter of my friend, Captain Rogers. I vouch for his integrity just as I vouch for hers. She is in dire need and I cannot –”

“Is there no Midgardian medicine that can help her?” Odin moved slowly towards Thor, his eyes fixed, not on his son, but on Bucky and the girl lying in his arms.

“Her condition is past their capabilities.” Thor seemed a little shocked, even a tad bit insulted at his father’s lack of interest in him.

Bucky was more worried about his interest in Robyn, moving back in small steps as Odin moved towards him.

“Why should I help her? She is of no consequence to me.”

“She is the daughter of –”

“As you said. That still does not make it my problem.”

“Please, my king.” Lady Sif stepped forward, sliding easily between Bucky and Odin with the grace of a trained warrior. She bowed her head and Bucky saw that the plating extended up her neck, disappearing into a dark flow of hair. This chick was absolutely serious. She could’ve pounded Bucky into dust and yet she was, protecting him.

“Interesting,” he muttered, looking down at Robyn’s prone form.

“I ask it as a personal favor from me.” She did not kneel. There was a kind of submission in her bowed head that spoke more than her bent form would. Yet Bucky felt that her submission came at a great cost to her; she was not used to yielding. And that she would do so for a near stranger was telling.

Odin’s mouth puckered like he was deliberating. But Bucky saw the decision in his eyes before he’d even made it.

“Why should I help her?” Odin moved back to his throne, a measured control in his careful steps. He turned and took a seat once more, his face slipping into a kind of apathetic indifference. “Why should help a girl who cannot stand, let alone speak for herself?”

Bucky’s arms tightened around Robyn at the same time she loosened hers. He looked down at her, blinking wildly, as she loosened her grip, pushing down on his arms until her feet were just barely touching the floor.

“Rob –?” He tried to keep her still, to hold her up, but she refused to be held.

She pushed away his arms and stood, knees shaking, face red with the effort. At last her back straightened and she stood, staring down the King of Asgard with a fiery vein of righteous anger.

“I can stand,” Robyn said. “And I _can_ speak for myself.”

It didn’t matter that she collapsed three seconds after she finished her sentence. It didn’t matter that Bucky just barely caught her, cradling the back of her head in his palm like a glass heart. It didn’t matter that Lady Sif extracted Robyn from Bucky’s arms not long after that, hooking Robyn over her shoulder and striding towards what Bucky could only assume was the medical wing.

It didn’t matter. None of it.

Because there was a look, just a look, in Odin’s eyes. It was dark and it was cold and it was a look no King was supposed to have.

“We shall help her,” he said after a moment, inclining his head gently.

But Bucky knew. He’d already made the decision. He’d made it long before Robyn had even entered the room. He’d been waiting for her to come.

And now he was finally getting his chance.

But . . . his chance to do what?

That was what Bucky didn’t know. And he was almost scared to find out.


End file.
